Born Under a Wandering Star
by choklitbean
Summary: The misadventures of Liam, a Nord, in Cyrodill. How the story came about: A few of us who like to write got together and did an experiment of sorts. We would write a story around what happened as we played through the game. My game was pretty heavily modded out so I'd like to say thanks to those whose wonderful creations not only made it into my game but also my story.
1. Chapter 1

His head was throbbing and his whole body ached. As he peeked out through slitted eyelids, Liam saw dust particles swirling in the air above him where a few rays of overly bright sunlight shone through the bars of his cell. Wait, his cell? This wasn't where he had landed the night before. He had a vague memory of someone's fist hammering repeatedly into his skull after a brawl broke out in an Inn and left him in a stupor on the wooden ale soaked floorboards of… where was that? Liam felt the side of his head where a massive lump had risen. He licked a swollen lip and could taste where the blood had dried and crusted as he pushed myself up into a sitting position. Derisive laughter met his ears as a dark elf in the cell across from his took notice of his state.

"My, my," he sneered, "you're a big one."

Liam stood and staggered over to the cell door in an attempt to discover where he was. The dark elf pressed on in his verbal attack and Liam considered what he'd like to do to his emaciated frame if he were ever in a position to get his hands on him. Liam staggered slightly as a wave of dizziness caused the cell to swirl about. It must have been quite the evening, he thought, if only he could remember.

The footsteps and voices of the guards came drifting down the stairs. "Do you hear that?" the impish little excuse for an elf was saying. "They're coming for you!" He laughed again but Liam pushed the thought of squeezing his scrawny little neck out of his mind, he had much more important things to think about right now, like how was he going to get out of there? The longer he stood the less the room spun. Slowly Liam worked his way back to small table where a pitcher of dirty water stood next to a thick crusty piece of stale bread.

"Get this gate open!" a woman's voice snapped behind him as he gulped water straight from the pitcher. The cell door squealed on its hinges and Liam turned to see three elite guards and an older man in very fine robes step through into the bleakness of his prison. "What's this prisoner doing in here?" the woman snapped again.

"Planning a surprise party for the Emperor," Liam answered without thinking only to have his head feel like it was going to crack wide open as he was slammed pitilessly against the wall. The pitcher smashed spraying water all over his sackcloth pants and sandaled feet. "I hope you don't expect me to pay for that," he choked through his constricted airway due to the big Redguard leaning heavily on his throat. That was when he noticed the old man in purple's royal crest and realized he WAS the emperor; it turned out the surprise was Liam's. Gasping, Liam slid down the wall as the Redguard released him. The woman guard pushed one of the stones in the wall opposite of where he now sat in a heap rubbing his throat. A huge section of the wall shifted and, with a deafening grinding roar, slid out of the way to reveal a secret passage. Liam rubbed his throat considering how good it would have been to know about that before the emperor and his court jesters had arrived.

"Wait! It's you!" The emperor's face went ghostly pale as he paused to examine Liam's face

"I didn't do it!" Liam exclaimed compulsively, he was after all a Nord in an Imperial prison.

The emperor babbled on about something he wasn't interested in at the time; Liam was more concerned with his stomach. He supposed, as the old guy came to the end of his speech, that it might have been a good idea to have actually listened but it was too late now and with the emperor's guard dogs so on edge Liam wasn't about to ask him to repeat it. The four of them stepped into the passageway as Liam picked himself up from the floor again. The dark elf across the way was standing with his hands grasped tightly around the bars of his locked cell, his mouth hanging open in dumbfounded astonishment. Liam smiled, waved good-bye, and followed his new found friends down and out of the stinking hole he had woken up in.


	2. Chapter 2

If Liam had thought things were looking up he was sadly mistaken. After a short jaunt down a tunnel into an ancient ruin beneath the city they were set upon by three thugs in red robes. These men must have been mages guild dropouts because he flattened the first one with a sharp upper cut before he even seemed to know Liam was there. The two others ran past and Liam heard the scuffle behind him as he rifled through the first man's pockets.

"The captain is down!"

This was a joke right? Or did Liam just luck out and get an initiate or something. He turned to see that sure enough the woman was lying in a pool of blood. The men just left her and moved on so Liam did what any self-respecting Nord would do and emptied her pockets as well. Unfortunately in the time it took him to strap on the two swords she was packing the others had hurried through a large wooden door and locked it behind them. Liam heaved his considerable weight against it but the ancient frame held fast. Backing up, he took a run at it, however, the force of his effort threw him backwards into a great stone wall which gave way causing him to roll head over heels into a dirt filled under-room where he surprised a pair of oversized rats. From the look of them they had been hungry for a while which may have explained why the turned on him savagely. HIs fist came down hard on the first one's head, knocking it senseless, then grabbing it by the tail he swung the vile creature like a fur bearing cudgel killing the pair of them as their heads collided with a thud that echoed loudly around the stony walls. Liam dusted himself off and looked around. He was left with two choices. He could go back and listen to that jeering dark elf who would undoubtedly gain endless hours of pleasure tormenting him with his failed attempt at freedom, or he could go on through the underbelly of the prison and hope that rats were the worst thing he would meet down there. Hmm, he thought, crawling through dung scented dirt while fighting off disease ridden rats or sitting in a comfortable cell having my food delivered to me and my only care listening to the dark elf prattle on. It was no contest; he tucked the tail of one of the rats into his belt in case he got hungry later and stepped into the unknown.

Looting an old chest, and a body that had been gnawed clean by the rats, Liam found himself a bow, some arrows, an old leather cuirass with chew marks in it and a pair of old boots that although were too small for his feet made him feel a whole lot safer with the knowledge that his toes were not so likely to be mistaken for tasty morsels. The corpse of a goblin gave up some pretty nice treasure as well as a key to small door that Liam seriously hoped would bring him to eventual freedom and good clean air. He had noticed that except for where their teeth had bit and killed, the goblin's body lay untouched by the rats. They had evidently decided it would be better to wait for an unsuspecting person to fall into their path than to sicken themselves by ingesting the goblin's stinking and now rotting green flesh. From the stench wafting up from the corpse, he could well understand their decision. The bloated body hissed as putrid gasses escaped just as Liam was about to walk away. A queasy feeling and sudden excessive sweating spread rapidly over his body. As the foul odour combined with the after effects of his night of Nord revelry he began to wretch and dropping to his hands and knees what little remained in his stomach emptied explosively onto the dirt floor. With his whole body quivering like a Khajiit at a werewolf gathering, he pulled out the two bottles of liquid he had found on the body of the red robed man and deciphered the thin scrawling writing on them. One was labelled 'for fatigue'. Supposing that the shaking he was now feeling might come into that category, he popped the cork and downed what tasted like the juice of eight or so vegetables mixed together and suddenly understood the meaning of the runes V and 8 on the side of the bottle. He closed his eyes and let the red liquid work. His breathing steadied, his shaking muscles relaxed and his stomach quit churning. Now to get out of here he thought. Liam slid the key into the lock on the tiny door and turned it. A quote from an old man came to him, "Just like there is no such thing as one flea on a dog, there is no such thing as one goblin in a cave." With that thought, Liam steeled himself for what he was sure lay on the other side.

Much to his relief there was nothing on the other side of the door, at least not in the immediate room. He found another old chest and packed the arrows he found there into the quiver he had also picked up. The old bow was tougher than it looked and he pulled it taught. The bow string had been coated with some strange substance and was surprisingly still strong. Now that he was beginning to feel more himself, he felt fairly confident in sheathing the sword and keeping the bow ready instead. He was soon to get to practice as three rats came racing around a corner up ahead. Goblins, he thought, the rats were probably the evening meal escaped. Liam readied his bow. The first came straight at him and he fired but missed, still a little shaky. He applauded himself inwardly as the next one hit the rodent square in the face and pinned him to the soft earth. The last couple of rats had been running his direction when they suddenly turned. He lifted his bow to shoot the goblin that he had assumed they had turned to fight. To his horror the green fleshy thing that showed itself as it slaughtered the rats one after the other was not a goblin, but rather the rotting reanimated corpse of a zombie! The tremors he now felt had nothing to do with drink or purging. He held his bow as steady as he could and hoped beyond hope that the old arrows fired from the old bow would find their target and hit hard enough to drop it on the first try. The bow string sung a sweet low twang as the arrow took flight and struck home in the zombie's shoulder. No, Liam thought aghast as he began backing up while stringing the next arrow. This can't be happening. The zombie turned, now aware of his presence. Thankfully the awkwardness of its gate slowed its undead legs as it ran at him. The arrow flew and Liam held his breath until, as it hit its target spraying slimy foul smelling spray all over the walls, the zombie was thrown over backwards and lay still, the rusty old arrow protruding from between its rotting eyes.

With a sigh of utter relief Liam continued on, shivering slightly as he stepped over the vile thing that had once been a human. He wondered how many centuries it had been roaming these hidden rooms and silently cursed the magician who had done this detestable thing. Liam was so angry that he almost missed the barrel containing four bottles of high quality, well-aged ale and he knew he had to get things into proper perspective. After all, the zombie really felt nothing but it would have been a crime to have left such tasty drink behind.

As he made his way along he found a small sack of gold, a gem or two and a few things he could sell if he ever managed to see daylight again. Liam began to wonder if the old guy knew what he was doing when they locked that door behind them and left him to these tunnels. He had left the prison with nothing but some old sack cloth rags but now was fully equipped for battle. Liam's opinion of him grew a little. He was lost in this contemplation when he rounded a corner and found himself looking at the backside of a goblin muttering to himself. Although Liam couldn't understand what he was saying, he could tell by the tone of his voice he was unhappy with somebody which might have been why he was here, alone. If Liam shot him with an arrow and didn't kill him on the first try, there was the possibility the goblin would call out and who knew how many gobbies he could find chasing his heiny back up into the prison. Without further thought, he pulled out the rusty dagger he had found on his deceased friend and began sneaking up behind him. As Liam came closer he could smell smoke and the distinct aroma of roasting rat flesh which made his stomach turn, maybe he wouldn't eat the one he had tucked into his belt after all.

The goblin's mutterings became louder as he strolled past the mouth of another passage. Liam guessed that he was making sure whoever was on the other side could hear his goblin grumblings so he waited until the creature turned. Whatever had been annoying him was suddenly forgotten as the look of surprise and sudden realization of his imminent death flashed across his face. Since there are some surprises that are just too good not to share Liam slipped around the corner and dispatched his friend in much the same manner, but not before he scooped up the mortar and pestle as well as all the herbs he could find in the goblin cook's horde. If he was going to have to eat this rat, he would have to do something to try to make it more palatable; but from the smell of the roasting meat, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.


	3. Chapter 3

A few more rats and goblins later, Liam found himself standing in front of an extra-large hole in the wall very similar to the one he had made when he rolled into this goblin infested underground. The nice thing about this hole was that it was going to take him back into the main ruins where, he hoped, he wouldn't find any more animated human leftovers. Liam had no problem dispatching things that were warm and fuzzy but anything that'd been dead longer than he'd been alive would give any Nord the creeps.

As Liam leapt through the hole he heard the voices of the guards and wondered at the timing. he hesitated, did he let them continue on, unknowing that he would be following or was that just asking for them to lock gates in front of him. Before he could decide the choice was taken from him. The shadow of yet another man in a red robe descended on the emperor and his bodyguards. With a shout Liam leapt from his perch on a landing above them, drawing his sword in the same moment. The two guards drew their own as they saw Liam run toward the emperor, but before they could reach him, Liam threw the short sword, piercing the would be assassin and saturating his robes with the even deeper red of his own blood. A second robed man appeared but with one quick swing by the big guard, Baurus, his head rolled helplessly from his shoulders and bounced down the steps that led to yet another door.

"It's that prisoner again, kill him, he might be working with the assassins," exclaimed the ever vigilant but not so bright Glenroy.

"No," commanded the emperor, holding up a hand to stop the swing of Glenroy's katana. "He is not one of them."

No kidding, Liam thought but this time was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, especially since that big fisted Redguard, Baurus was standing right behind him. Liam casually reached into his pack and withdrew one of the ancient bottles of ale. He was thirsty and since the gaffer seemed in the mood to talk, he thought now was a good time for a refreshment. It took all his concentration to stay focused as the Emperor went on about some dream he'd had. Liam figured it would be polite to at least pretend to pay attention, after all, the old guy had just saved his life. He held the bottle out to offer it to the emperor and could almost hear Glenroy growl as his face contorted into a mad dog kind of snarl. Liam refrained from continuing the offer, just glad that they were now willing to let him travel along with them. Besides, it looked like they could use his help.

It was a good thing Liam had hung around. Baurus seemed to be a fairly efficient fighter but he thought Glenroy must have gotten his training from a Fighter's Guild pamphlet. Everyone else seemed quite stressed, but having found several bottles of V8 and a few other health drinks on the bodies of the seemingly endless supply of assassin wannabes, Liam was content to keep doing battle. He added up the septims he could potentially make off this haul as he slammed the hilt of his sword into the face of yet another robed man as he dashed from the shadows and couldn't help but think how much easier this was than actually working.

"Hold up," Glenroy called back as he entered a large open area and Liam had to wonder why everyone was content to let a nincompoop lead the party. Glenroy gave the okay and they trudged on only to find themselves in a tiny stone walled room with no way out.

"It's a trap!" Glenroy shouted as they heard gates and doors slam behind them and the sound of enemy feet running their way.

"Guard, the Emperor with your life!" commanded Baurus as he raced after his dimwitted friend who had run pell-mell into the fray.

There Liam stood, one man between life and death for the Emperor of Cyrodiil; the prison cell was suddenly not looking so bad, dark elf or not. Hot blood sprayed across his neck and chest as his sword found its way into the throat of a dagger wielding psychopath and its hilt the face of his mate knocking him senseless. Liam felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around.

"I can go no further," the old man said as if Liam didn't know there was no other way out of the room they were in. "Take this, find my son." He pressed a fabulously expensive looking amulet into Liam's hand and he imagined the Tavern he could buy if he sold it to the right person. It was at that moment the wall behind them magically opened and the Emperor was struck down with a single blow from the assassin who leapt through it. Although it was nice to finally do battle with someone who actually knew how to fight, Liam's mind was racing as to how he was going to explain this one to Baurus and Glenroy.

"Glenroy is dead." Baurus's voice trailed off as he saw Liam standing over the Emperor's body, sword in hand.

"I didn't do it!" Liam exclaimed. He emphatically pointed at the recently deceased assassin added, "He did!"

Baurus fell to his knees beside the emperor's lifeless frame and Liam saw his opportunity to go through those finely woven pockets fly away like dandelion fuzz in a windstorm.

"The amulet! Where is the Amulet of Kings?" Baurus shouted.

"He gave it to me," Liam said deciding that his best chance to get out of there alive was to tell the truth and hope beyond hope the guard believed it. He held it out for Baurus to take but the man just looked at it then his eyes wandered to Liam's face.

"He trusted you."

Liam was a little confused by the fact that he said it as a statement and not a question. Normally in Cyrodiil such a situation would see you thrown down, beaten bloody and hauled away to prison without even being given a chance to explain. The whole situation left him speechless. Baurus then called him a barbarian as though it were a compliment and sent him on his way and Liam had to wonder if the Redguard had taken a serious blow to the head. Not that he really cared, he was only a short distance from freedom and he had found enough gold to buy him a night in a warm bed, a plate of good hot food, and a flagon of whatever he wanted to wash it down with. Life was good again.


	4. Chapter 4

The sewer gate screeched loudly as Liam swung it shut behind him. The late afternoon sun shone hot and bright in spite of the lateness of the day and he squinted as his eyes adjusted. He found himself standing on the edge of a long blue lake, the water lapping at the sandy edge and short dock nearby where a small boat was tied. The dust of the ruins he had just crawled through to escape his prison cell had left him incredibly thirsty in spite of the ale he had downed along the way; indeed his entire being felt thirsty. Within minutes he had stripped off leaving his gear and new found armour, such as it was, on the bank and waded out into the cool clear water of the lake. Gulping water as he swam in the channel he felt some relief, but the growling emanating from his stomach reminded him that it had been a good long while since he had actually eaten anything solid and his mind turned to the rat, he wasn't sure he was quite hungry enough for that yet, and that's when he smelled it; the roasting of sweet meat over an open fire and his mouth watered. He gazed around until he spied a thin cone of smoke rising steadily from near an old ruin. Hastily donning his clothing and armour he threw his pack into the boat and paddled across the channel in the direction of the delicious smelling meat all the while considering what he might trade for some food; a few bottles of ale, an old silver goblet, the Emperor's amulet? Hmm, maybe not the amulet, he thought.

The unlikely combination of Khajiit, Dark elf and Red Guard were huddled around the campfire arguing about something, which might have been why they didn't hear the big Nord approach. Curious to know why such a crew would gather and even more, why they were arguing, Liam crouched down behind a nearby crumbling wall of the ruin and snuck quietly within listening distance.

"Orinn will kill you if he finds out," said the female Khajiit.

"And how will he find out," snarled the Red Guard accusingly. "Do you plan on telling him?" Liam noticed the man's hand drop to the handle of the mace at his side; it was obvious he was willing to use it if he had to.

"Don't be stupid," growled the dark elf, his fingers lovingly caressing a bow that seemed to give off a slight red glow at the touch of his hand.

"No one plans on telling him anything," the Khajiit snapped, "but I know I wouldn't be so fool-hardy as to think I could get away with stealing from right under Orinn's nose."

"Is it stealing if the loot was stolen in the first place?" the Red Guard asked. "Besides," he added, "we're the ones who brought it back; why should he be the one to divide it just because he set himself up as the gangs leader?"

"You're too stupid to live," said the dark elf, blandly, "I'll take the first watch." His bow glittered at his touch as he picked it up and trudged out toward a field which edged the ruin.

"What's the matter with him?" asked the Red Guard, oblivious to his own foolishness. The Khajiit rolled her eyes at him and wandered off to crawl into a nearby tent. "He's planning something isn't he?" he called after her, but she refused to answer. "I'll bet anything he's going to try to take it for himself," he muttered and eyed the dark elf suspiciously.

Liam crept silently along the wall until he reached the end nearest where the dark elf stood. Hiding himself in a cluster of bushes he raised his bow and shot an arrow towards the quick tempered Red Guard where it stuck solidly into the soft earth right between the man's feet.

"What the…!" the Red Guard shouted and leapt up, anger quickly replacing the look of surprise on his face. "I knew it!" he screamed and ran, mace in hand at the confused dark elf who barely had time to ready his bow before the Red Guard landed a blow to his head, cracking his skull like an egg.

"What's going on?" The confused looking Khajiit had crawled back out of the tent and, sword in hand, ran out to meet the Red Guard.

"You!" he snarled at the sight of the sword, "You planned this with him didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?" she began but then saw the lifeless form of the dark elf in the grass. "You killed him!" the Khajiit roared a cry of fury and an instant later the two were embroiled in a battle to death that pushed them further and further out into the field.

Liam slipped quietly into the camp snatching up anything that looked valuable as he went, last of all he picked up a thick fat leg of roast pork. He would come back later, after he had eaten, to see what else he might be able to carry off; a nice set of fur armour, a few small sacks of gold, but especially an enchanted bow.

The enchanted bow felt warm to the touch and Liam, anxious to see what it could do, just how powerful it was, headed out along the lake side until he came to a cave that looked like it might be home to something worthy of being used for target practice. Sneaking up to the makeshift door he slipped inside and made his way along the rocky passage. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him; instead of a wolf or a bear or even a bandit, there before him was a woman clad in only slightly more than she had been born with. Tall and muscular, she was beautiful to behold, unfortunately, as it turned out, she had a great temper to match her great beauty and the moment she saw the big Nord, she snatched up a silvery looking mace and ran at Liam with the obvious intention of erasing him from existence. As fast as his hands could move he raised the enchanted bow and let an arrow fly; this was to be the moment of truth, just how powerful was the magic in this bow? The arrow hit the woman in the left arm, exactly where Liam had been aiming for how good is a test of a bow's enchantments if you aim for a killing shot right off? The woman glowed red for a moment, staggered and was thrown off balance; but she kept coming. Liam shot again, this time he was aiming to kill, however, he stumbled as he took a step back and the shot went awry. As the woman bore down on him, he shot once more and the arrow tore through the flesh at her waist. Again the woman glowed red for a moment but instead of slowing her down, all it did was seem to infuriate her all the more. Liam's heart was pounding as though he had a wild rabbit trying to kick its way out of his chest, so gripping the bow tightly, he did what any man would have done in that situation, turned and fled.

It was good, he thought, that he had spent his youth in the Skyrim mountains and had developed strong legs as she was remarkably fast. He wondered as he jumped over a fallen log, if she was able to maintain her speed due to an exceptionally agile body or the fact that she had almost no clothing to encumber her and for a moment he considered stripping off as he ran but the thought of being caught naked by this mad woman and her mace made him shudder.

His heart pounding more furiously than it ever had in his life, the burly man ran on until lungs were beginning to ache and still she refused to give up the chase. He turned his head to see if he could maybe get another shot in; perhaps the bow had to warm up before its real power set in he thought hopefully. Unfortunately she was closer than he had expected and landed a blow to the big man's arm, he howled in pain and raced on with the terrifying witch in hot pursuit. He was panting hard and at the moment she struck him his heart felt as though it would burst inside of him. Liam was beginning to have trouble drawing breath, this was not how he imagined dying, beaten to a pulp by an unclad woman. Just when he thought he could go no further he saw, much to his relief, an Imperial soldier up ahead and ran straight for him. Maybe, he thought, the two of us can fight the witch off, and if not, I could always borrow his horse.

The soldier leapt from the big bay he was riding and drew his sword temporarily distracting the woman from killing the Nord. Liam spun around and, in spite of the great pain in his left arm drew his bow and took aim. This time his arrow hit her in the stomach and she staggered and slowed, the next shot caught her full in the chest and she gasped, tottered and fell dead.

The guard's sword clattered as he re-sheathed it. "What was that all about?" he asked Liam who was now doubled over trying desperately to catch his breath.

He stared at the still body of the amazon who was stunningly beautiful even in death and imagined the laughter in the barracks that night when the guard told them about the Nord he had to save from a woman. "It's nothing," Liam said with a wry smile, "just an old girlfriend."


	5. Chapter 5

This was craziness. It was still daylight; where did these things come from? A rusty old arrow whizzed past Liam's ear and he ran harder than ever. He reached over his shoulder and felt for another arrow but alas his quiver was empty; the full haul having been emptied into, and through, the rotting corpse of a zombie and the reanimated skeleton of an ancient archer that he had blundered upon on on his way south toward Bravil. The steady, gelatinous sloshing of the zombie's putrefied and bloated body was getting quieter and Liam began to breathe easy feeling sure they would soon stop, but that was not to be. He turned to look behind only to discover the sloshing was getting quieter because an arrow had pierced the zombies belly allowing the air and juices to escape his fetid frame. The skeleton reached back, however, his quiver was also empty it seemed because he suddenly discontinued the chase, halting as though wondering what to do next. Now was Liam's best chance. He drew his sword and waited for the zombie to catch up. It ran at him, arms outstretched and he dodged their flailing. Ducking sideways then leaping back to avoid being touched by the probably disease ridden body, Liam slipped behind and swung the razor sharp blade, dividing flesh and bone and leaving the corpse's severed arms thrashing helplessly on the ground. One more swipe with the blade separated legs from torso and the vile abomination finally lay still, all evil magic gone from it. The skeleton rattled noisily as it suddenly began moving toward the big Nord, swinging his bow as a weapon. Liam picked up a large stone and with one mighty heave knocked the skull from off its enchanted frame causing the whole thing to crumple like a child's tower of building blocks.

"Ha," Liam exclaimed out loud, "Got you both and not a diseased scratch on me." Unfortunately it was at this moment that a wild dog burst out of the bushes, sinking its fangs into the big man's thigh. With a shout of mixed pain and anger the sword came down, finishing the beast. The bite was deep but the fur leggings had protected him from the greatest of the injury; even still blood was running freely as he limped slowly toward an old inn.

The sign on the inn screeched noisily as it swung in the wind. Liam shuddered as he read "The Inn of Ill Omen" and knew nothing good could come of this.

"Welcome to the Inn of Ill…" The innkeeper 's voice trailed off as Liam limped painfully through the door, one hand grasping tightly to the bleeding wound in his thigh. "You're injured" the man asked, coming around from behind the old wooden counter.

"It's nothing," Liam said, "was bit by a dog." How inglorious was that; he had been chased by an amazon, a zombie and a skeleton and how did he sustain an injury? He was bit by a dog.

"Oooh, that looks bad," the innkeeper said looking at all the blood oozing through the holes of his fur leggings. Better let Minerva have a look at it, she's real good at things like this. Minerva," he called toward the back of the common room.

For the first time Liam noticed the Red Guard sitting at a table in the shadows of the far corner. She was older, somewhere in her fifties, Liam guessed, as she rose and hastily crossed the room toward the two men.

"Have you got a room?" Liam asked. "If you have a room, some strong liquor, a needle and some sinew I can take care of this myself."

"Don't be silly," said the innkeeper. "What you need is a good stiff drink and Minerva to clean you up.

" Liam looked at the woman who in turn was looking at him hungrily, or so he thought. "Uh," he said, "I'll take the drink but the rest won't be necessary, really." He pulled out his money pouch and dug out a couple of coins for the innkeeper. "I'll take a room and that needle and sinew as well as a wash basin and some salt."

"Ah yes," said the innkeeper, "I'll go get that for you, Minerva could you pour the young man a drink while I attend to the other things." Minerva hurried behind the counter while the innkeeper disappeared down a ladder into what must have been a basement storage area. A few moments later the woman was hurrying back with a small stone cup of something in her hand and Liam hoped it was good and strong; after all sewing ones leg shut was sure to be a highly painful experience.

Liam took the cup and sipped the brew inside it. It was good whatever it was. "What is this?" he asked.

"Oh, just a little something I keep around in case of emergencies," Minerva answered.

Liam took a long drink then asked, "Is it strong?"

"Oh yes, quite," said Minerva with a smile.

Liam took another gulp then noticed that the counter had begun sliding sideways then jerked back to where it started. He looked into the cup. "What's in thish?" he slurred.

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," Minerva said as she and her chair spun past Liam's face. He turned his head to follow them, "Where you're going?" he mumbled.

"Come now," she said, "I think we better get you upstairs, you don't look so good."

"I feel don't so good too," Liam murmered.

The Red Guard swung Liam's arm over her shoulder and tried to get the big man up but Liam's legs refused to do what he wanted, not that he really could think of what he wanted. There was a loud bang as the wooden cover for the basement ladder slammed shut.

"What's this then?" the innkeeper asked.

"The poor boy," said Minerva, staggering under Liam's weight "it must be the loss of blood combined with the drink."

"I din drop blood too mush," Liam garbled.

"Well," said the innkeeper, "let's get him upstairs."

Liam's legs refused to work properly and his arms felt as if they belonged to someone else, but whatever the reason Liam really didn't mind. A sort of quiet peacefulness had come over him and he was beginning to feel very drowsy.

Liam's eyes cracked open, he was cold, so very cold, and yet drenched in sweat. Dark hands pulled the layers of blankets right up to his chin as his body shivered uncontrollably. He heard the soft sound of water in a basin and the same dark hands returned to bathe his face with a wet cloth which felt good and awful at the same time. Every joint in his body ached and he felt as though he had been in a fight with a bear and lost. His eyes focused first on a knot on the ceiling then scanned the room as far as he could without moving his head which pounded with the ferocity of a herd of stampeding horses.

"Where am I?" he asked the hand that now gently caressed his face.

"You're with me, Minerva, here in the Inn of Ill Omen."

Minerva, Liam thought, Minerva? Suddenly everything came flooding back to him and he painfully threw up one arm to knock the woman's hand away from his face only to discover that his arm was bare. Where were his clothes? He didn't remember undressing.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked. He tried to sit up only to have one of the wild horses in his head kick him solidly behind the eyes. He grasped his face with one hand while the other braced to keep him from sinking back into the straw mattress. "And what did you give me to drink?"

"Now I gave you that for your own good," she said throwing herself in front of him and shoving him back down onto the bed by the shoulders. He groaned and lay his head back down. "You silly men think you can do everything on your own but you can't you know."

She prattled on so much that Liam began to wish he had never woken up. Then the thought occurred to him, had she been through his things while he was asleep? With a huge effort he attempted once more to rise.

"No," said Minerva boldly placing her hands on his broad chest and pushing him.

"Get off me woman!" Liam barked and shoved her aside.

"Manheim!" she shouted, "Manheim, come quickly!"

Heavy footfall creaked the old wooden steps as Liam, sitting on the edge of the bed with the covers gathered around his waist, lifted his pack and began rummaging through it taking inventory in his throbbing head. The amulet! His hand felt frantically around in the bottom until it came to rest on a small pouch. Inside he could feel the outline of the Amulet of Kings and he breathed a sigh of relief, everything seemed to be there.

"What's all this?" the innkeeper puffed as he rounded the top of the stairs and entered the small room.

"He's getting up!" Minerva almost sounded to Liam as though she were pouting.

"Well now, Minerva," the innkeeper said patiently, "you knew it was bound to happen, you can't keep him forever."

This was all too weird for Liam, they were talking about him like he was a wounded bird and the woman wanted to keep him for a pet. He snatched up his leggings from where they lay on the floor and pulled them on wincing as they reached his thigh where he had been bitten. He gasped at the pain and looked down at the wound for the first time. It was red and swollen although the stitching was well done; a lot neater than he expected he could do. Another wave of chills hit him suddenly and he shivered violently.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked no one in particular.

"Helljoint," said the innkeeper. Minerva has been tending to you and I think you should be grateful. Liam glanced at the woman who seemed to be eyeing him again like a tasty morsel. Now he shivered for different reasons and grabbed up a blanket to cover himself. One good thing, she had done her best to clean the blood from his pants so they hadn't become hard and crusty which would have made wearing them over the infected looking wound almost unbearable.

"Helljoint?" Liam asked, "Will it go away on its own?"

"Not usually," Minerva answered, but there is a cure although I haven't the knowledge of how it's made."

"Now that you're awake," said Manheim cheerfully, "Minerva can take care of you and the inn and I'll go fetch a healer from the temple in Bravil. It shouldn't take more than a day or two until I get back; you will be in good hands."

"No!" Liam answered way too quickly for it to mean anything other than what it did. He did not want to be left in Minerva's care. "I'll go see the healer myself." He had been thinking that he would be much safer on the roads with the wild animals and bandits than he would be left alone with this woman.

Having learned that the nearest healer was in the chapel at Bravil, Liam stiffly gathered up his things and made for the door. Every joint in his body was swollen and seemed to ache as though he had been beaten savagely by a herd of minotaur.

"Oh, please don't go," Minerva pleaded for what seemed like the hundredth time. Liam ignored her pleading. "I won't let you go!" she said and positioned herself between him and the door.

"Please get out of my way," Liam said through gritted teeth as his patience waned.

"No!" the woman answered, "You need to stay here – upstairs - in bed - where I can take care of you."

"Get out of my way."

"At least let me mix you a drink for your pain."

"If you don't step out of my way," Liam said with the quiet calm one feels just before a storm hits, "I will take the repair hammer in my sack and use it to…" The woman shrieked and ran from the building. "I was going to say knock a new exit in the wall," he called after her but it appeared she was unable to hear him as she ran screaming down the road. Liam shook his head and, with much effort turned south toward Bravil.


	6. Chapter 6

The pain eased up a little as Liam trudged on but even still his movement was limited and he hoped he wouldn't meet any dangerous creatures on the way, at least no really big ones. Oh what I wouldn't do for a horse right now, he thought. The strong scent of the flowers along the road wafted up to him in the warmth of the morning sun and his mind wandered back to an old woman who used to come visit his family when he was a child. She would go on about all the healing properties in the native plants and sometimes when he was out playing in the forest or in the fields near their home he would see her picking leaves and blossoms off of the various plants. Now he wished he had paid closer attention, a nice pain killing potion to sip along the way would be very good; and then he remembered the old bottle of ale in his pack.

"Yes!" he exclaimed happily as he dug the bottle out and pulled the cork. "One bottle of pain killer right at my finger tips." It was, unfortunately, this moment that a bandit chose to shoot an arrow past the bear of a man in order to frighten him into handing over all his belongings. The arrow struck the bottle, knocking it from Liam's big fist where it careened to the cobblestone road and smashed spraying the contents all over the cobbles as well as Liam's boots. Presently the bandit made his second mistake which was to put his bow away, draw a dagger and approach the angry Nord in order to demand he hand over his things. Liam's fist hit the dark elf so hard he could hear the elf's teeth crack before he toppled over backwards and lay motionless on the roadway.

"Where there's a road bandit," Liam said, "there will be a cache." He searched behind the nearby rocks and bushes, bent a bush aside and sure enough found a nice big stash of booty including two bottles of fine wine. This trip was turning out pretty good after all he thought. Looking around to make sure he was alone, Liam pulled the cork and took a long draught of the dark red liquid. It took nearly all of the first bottle before he began to notice it's numbing effect and he regretfully jammed the cork back into the neck with the idea that he had better save some if it was going to last all the way to Bravil.

The walk to Bravil was proving to be long and painful in spite of the red wine which Liam partook of liberally and mourned the end of two thirds of the way there. While he sat on a rock holding the second empty bottle aloft over his open mouth waiting for the last drops to drain onto his tongue, he heard a noise in the bushes behind him. Setting the bottle down gently on the mossy ground he crouched down and peered through the thick foliage expecting to see another bandit or perhaps a hedge wizard sneaking up on him, alas, these would have been almost a blessing compared to what he did see; the over-large green eyes of a goblin staring back at him.

"Aaeerah!" it shrieked and raised a club over its head in order to smash Liam's cranium, no doubt so it could feast upon his brains after they fell out on road. With the sudden speed of a much healthier man, Liam grabbed up his pack, now made even heavier since he had emptied the bandit's haul into it, and began running for his life. Every step was agony but the thought of becoming the next meal of whatever goblin clan inhabited these woods kept him moving.

Water, Liam thought, I have to find the water, for he had learned as a young lad that goblins hated the very idea of getting wet and none of them could swim. He turned and ran down a nearby embankment, leaping ungracefully over a short bush and crashing through much larger ones, dropping his pack neatly into the thickest of them as he went. Hopefully, he thought, the goblin won't take notice and I'll be able to retrieve it later.

The heavy thudding of the monster's thick feet was growing closer. Liam's armour was too cumbersome. He threw off his gauntlets and cuirass while he ran which gave his aching body such relief as he had never thought possible. Next he stumbled on a hill and lost a boot as he rolled uncontrollably through the tall grass that covered the long slope, and at the bottom he pulled off the other and dove into chilly waters of the Niben Bay still wearing his greaves which began to drag him down until he had no choice but to remove those also to prevent himself from drowning in the deep blue water. As his sandy-blond head broke the surface he could hear the goblin screeching on the grassy bank.

"I'll probably have to swim to Bravil." He grumbled with the knowledge that goblins weren't creatures who gave up on their prey easily, but just then the goblin screamed in pain. Looking back Liam saw, to his great relief, an Imperial Forester, bow drawn, deliver a killing shot to the monsters heart.

Liam swam back to the shore where he lay panting on bank in nothing more than his undergarment which he had thankfully not lost in his panic to rid himself of his greaves.

"I found this," said the guard dropping Liam's pack beside him. "I'm assuming it's yours."

"Yes, thank you," Liam panted, pulling it in close to his body and glad he wasn't going to have to climb the steep slope to retrieve it.

"You aren't one of those weird deadra worshipers are you?" asked the guard grimacing as he glanced briefly at Liam's state of undress.

"No!" Liam growled. He wondered how he was going to find all his fur armour; and the greaves, well, there was no getting them back now. He looked at the much shorter and finely built Imperial in front of him. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare pair of pants would you?" he asked.


	7. Chapter 7

On a normal day, for a healthy person, the trip to Bravil from the Inn of Ill Omen would have only been a four hour walk, however, this had not been a normal day and Liam, who was far from healthy, stumbled through the gates as the women of the town were cleaning out the evening meal pots. Feverish, and half naked, wearing nothing more than a pair of leather pants that were much too short and much too tight, he asked directions to the chapel and, pack over his shoulder dragged himself through the huge doors.

"Oh!" gasped a woman at the sight of the brutishly big and desperately filthy man who had suddenly invaded the solemnity of the chapel. "Uh, would you, uh, like to sit down?" she asked uncomfortably.

Liam lowered himself on to a nearby pew. "I need to see the healer," he mumbled and closed his eyes, thankful to have made it and longing for the cure he was promised he could find here. He felt the soft touch of two fingers to his brow.

"Oh my, oh my," said the woman. "Marz," she called, "Marz, I think you need to see this one." Liam heard the soft shuffle of feet and felt another hand on his forehead. The hand touched lightly over his heart before slipping down his arm to his wrist and felt for his pulse.

"You are not in mortal danger, although you are certainly very ill," Marz said. "I can heal you, but these things cost money and since we supply our services by donation…, do you have anything you could donate?" she asked.

Liam pushed his pack toward her. "Take anything you like," he mumbled, but suddenly slammed his hand down on the pack, "except the amulet in the leather pouch," he added fixing his bloodshot eyes upon her in such a way she would know the consequences of taking it would be grim indeed.

The Argonian pulled open the pack and rummaged inside for a moment then screeched angrily. "You wicked, wicked man!" she shouted, pulling a bronze amulet from among the things he had taken from the bandit on the road. "You evil beast!" she continued. "I know this," she shoved the amulet under Liam's nose. "One of our own pilgrims was found dead on the road and this," she shook it in front of his eyes, "this was his! You murdering thief, get out, get out this instant!"

Liam tried to explain but suddenly he had three women coming down upon him, beating his pain wracked body with their fists and pushing him toward the door. Before he had even a chance to explain he had been shoved out into the street, his pack hitting the road beside him and he heard the heavy bolt of the door slide shut behind him.

Standing on the cold stone steps of the chapel, Liam considered what to do next. Somewhere behind him he heard a door slam followed by hurried footsteps that disappeared down a side street, he turned and saw an old beggar, however, whoever he was trying to get gold from had obviously shunned him because he was looking after them pleadingly, empty hand outstretched. Liam's thoughts returned to finding a cure, maybe there was an alchemy shop in town and throwing his pack over his shoulder, made his way toward the market street. A high elf greeted him as he entered A Warlock's Luck, the only alchemists shop in Bravil.

"You look like a man in need," said the elf taking in Liam's appalling condition. "What might your ailment be, I just might have the right herb for what troubles you."

"Helljoint," answered Liam, "What's the cure for helljoint?"

The high elf let out a low whistle. "That, my friend, is going to take a good bit of mandrake root. Of course to make it properly one would need a few other ingredients as well; however," he examined Liam closely, "if your case is a less severe one you might get by with a straight mandrake infusion."

"Look," said Liam, "I don't care how many mandrakes it takes, I'll buy your whole stock if that's what I need."

"And therein lies the problem," said the elf. "I just sold the whole shipment to the mages guild yesterday."

Liam groaned and, in frustration, grabbed his shoulder length blonde hair with both hands; was there to be no end to his misery? "And where might I find the mages guild?" he grumbled.

"Out the door and to your left - end of the street - can't miss it," answered the elf congenially and walked Liam to the door.

Outside, Liam made his way to a tall building with a circular stained glass window at the end of the lane. As he approached the building he could feel something in the air, a change, almost a tingling sensation but then not. He opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of herbs simmering mixed with the scent of various other fresh plants in the moist air that permeated the building. He caught hold of a mage's arm as they were walking by.

"I need to speak to an alchemist," he said tiredly.

"Oh, you must mean Ardeline, she's through there," he said pointing to a room a short distance from where they stood. "Are you all right," he asked.

"Just grand," Liam answered sarcastically and headed for the room the dark elf had indicated.

Two small cauldron like pots hung over a fire. Steam was steadily rising from one and the strong scent of lavender filled the room. Liam guessed that the second pot had only just begun to simmer by the amount of steam rising from it, although a pungent odour was beginning to spread from it and he wondered what concoction could produce such a smell all the while hoping that that wasn't the cure he was looking for.

"Ardeline?" he asked. The female high elf standing nearby stopped chopping something green and slimy.

"Yes," she said looking up for the first time. "What can I help you with?"

"I understand you bought the mandrake root from the alchemist in town, would you have any I could purchase from you?"

"Oh no," she said matter-of-factly. "I've already stewed the mandrakes into cures for various illnesses."

"Would one of those cures be for helljoint?" Liam asked hopefully.

"Well, yes," Ardeline answered. "However, it has already been paid for. I suppose he might be willing to sell a bottle to you. He should be by later this evening to pick up his order."

"I would be most grateful," Liam said. He was thrilled that he might finally be free from his pain, "if there was a place where I could sit and rest while I waited."

Ardeline looked him over carefully before answering. "Normally we don't allow that," she said, "but I suppose, I mean considering how ill you are, you could ask Kud-ei; she's our guild head here in Bravil. I'll take you to her."

Liam stiffly followed the high elf into the next room where he saw a tall and as far as he could tell, fairly pretty, although older, Argonian studying a large ancient looking book.

"Excuse me, Kud-ei," Ardeline said, "pardon the interruption but…" she continued to explain Liam's predicament to the Argonian as he gazed around the room.

"Absolutly," said the Argonian setting her book aside and standing up to greet him. She took Liam by the hands and they suddenly began to feel warm. He noticed too that the tingling sensation he had felt outside seemed to be flowing from her fingertips and into him and it made him nervous. "You just have a seat over here." She led him to a long bench. "You look hungry, I'll go find you something to eat."

It was funny, Liam thought, this was the kind of treatment he had expected at the chapel, certainly not from a mages guild. Presently Kud-ei returned with a large chunk of roast mutton, a hunk of cheese and a soup made of various vegetables. He was hungry, but he was also tired and within minutes of eating had leaned back against the wall and drifted off to sleep. Liam had no idea how long he had slept before Ardeline's hand on his shoulder dragged him back to wakefulness.

"I asked him for you," she said, "but he told me he couldn't let it go for less than 500 septims."

"500 septims!" Liam said in disbelief and rubbed his face wondering where he was going to get that kind of gold at this late hour. He had the things in his pack but no shop in town would be open to buy them from him at this time of day. "I can't afford that. Would he consider a trade? I have things I've picked up in my travels that he might be interested in."

"You can ask him yourself," she answered, "He's still here." Ardeline left for a moment and soon was followed back in by two Imperial guards.

"Well, well, well, would you look at what we've got here," the older of the two said to his companion. "Isn't this the very man that chapel woman was raving on about?"

"He sure does fit the description," said the second. "It's kind of hard to miss a sick Nord in short-pants." The two laughed and to Liam's dismay, drew their swords.

Ardeline gasped. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"This man is wanted for murder," the guard answered with a grin. Ardeline quickly stepped away from Liam. "We thought he'd a left town, but here he is, hiding out in the mages guild."

"I never murdered anybody," Liam exclaimed. "I knocked a guy down who was trying to rob me and took his things, that's all!"

"So you're a thief then," said the guard, "that's as good a reason to take you in as any."

"How can it be stealing if it was already stolen?" Liam countered.

"That's not our problem now is it?" said the younger guard and grabbed Liam by the arm.

There was nothing the big man could do. Too weak and tired to fight back, Liam found himself being dragged through town with all of Bravil looking on as they hauled his sorry, aching body to the dungeons to await a trial.


	8. Chapter 8

The thin straw mattress on the floor did little to keep out the cold from the damp stone floor and the chill proved to redouble the ache in Liam's joints. He pulled the threadbare excuse for a blanket around him and curled into a ball, shivering violently as his fever returned. He would die before he was even brought before the count for trial he was sure. There were two things he was grateful for though, the delicious meal he had been given at the mages guild and the sack cloth clothes and sandals the guards had thrown at him after they had forced him to strip down. The Imperial Forester's pants had been okay in a pinch, Liam thought, then chuckled as he realised pinch was exactly the right word for it. As for the meal, he had wished he could eat more, and would have at the time had he not felt so miserable from the helljoint. He was curious as to why the mage head had been so kind to him. He had encountered more than a few mages on the roads and they weren't known for their kindness or generosity. From all the gossip he had picked up in the inns and taverns he liked to frequent all too often, it would seem that the general consensus was that they were a pack of self-absorbed over ambitious know-it-alls who didn't have time for anyone outside of their own guild. He mulled over what he had heard compared to what he had so recently experienced and was beginning to think that people outside the guild must not know what the mages were really like and were perhaps jealous of their magicka. That is when the dungeon door swung open and Liam could hear the guard talking to someone.

"I have to lock the door behind you, you know," he said.

"I know, I'm not worried, you just remember our bargain," said a voice Liam thought he recognized. The footsteps proceeded past the first cells and Liam's curiosity was growing but he was too cold and uncomfortable to move. The footfall came closer and closer and finally stopped just outside Liam's cell door. He peered out past the edge of the blanket that was now pulled up over his ears in an attempt to stop the shivering and saw a cloaked figure standing with the guard.

"Leave us," said Kud-ei as she stepped through the cell door and let the guard lock it behind her. He gave her a doubtful look, but she nodded her head toward the dungeon door and he sauntered away. Quickly she removed her cloak and threw it over Liam's quivering frame as she knelt down beside him. She felt his forehead.

"You're burning up," she said, and pulled at his eyelids. "How are you doing?" she asked but not in a conversational way. Liam got the distinct impression she was trying to see if he was lucid enough to converse with her.

"I've been better," he murmured.

"Good," said Kud-ei, feeling his arm for a pulse and squeezing at his swollen elbow; Liam moaned too tired to swat the woman away. "I have a proposal for you if you're interested," she said.

"Unless it involves me dying I'm afraid I'm not going to be much use to you," he answered weakly.

"Yes, well," Kud-ei said, "you should have thought about that before you killed that pilgrim on the road."

"I never killed anyone!" Liam hissed. "Not that it matters now."

Kud-ei stared at him for a moment. "I believe you," she said. "I have a way to get you out of here and, I'll get you the cure you need if you'll agree to do something for me."

"Why me?" he asked suspiciously, after all Bravil was full of people, why would she risk a night trip to a dungeon to ask a sickly stranger for a favour.

"I have a friend who needs, um, well, rescuing; secretly mind you. When you came into the guild today, I saw that you have strength and courage and when I touched you I could tell you also had natural magika. Not all Nords have it you know, it's something you have to be born with." Liam thought about the tingling and warmth that passed between their hands.

"When you touched me," he said, "I…"

"Felt your hands tingle? Yes, I know, I was testing you. Had nothing happened I would not be here tonight asking, no, pleading for your help. You see, only someone with natural magika can help in this, uh, situation."

Now it was beginning to make sense. She had tested him for this magika and gave him the food and hospitality in the hopes he would volunteer to help her with whatever it was she was going to ask. She had no idea he would be arrested and hauled off to a prison cell. It looked like the rumours about mages might be true after all.

"So," said Liam, "you cure me and I do a chore for you, is that it?"

"Not exactly," said the Argonian, "First you help me, and then I cure you."

"And how am I supposed to help you in here, or did I hear something about a special arrangement with the guard."

"Don't you worry about that," said Kud-ei, "I know exactly where to push to get what I want. I can have you out of here within the hour if you agree to help me."

"Do I get to know what I'm agreeing to before I have to answer," he asked.

Kud-ei sighed then said in a hushed voice. "I have a friend; he is, uh, lost in a way. I need you to find him and bring him back."

Liam chuckled faintly at the idea of him trying to do anything more energetic than dying from his fever.

"Don't you worry, your health will in no way impede you in this task, will you do it or not?"

"You already know the answer to that," he said, "its help you or spend the rest of my natural life in prison for a murder I didn't commit. Of course I'll do it." He saw the look of satisfaction on the Argonian's face and closed his eyes hoping that her boast of having him out of that place "within the hour" was more than just idle words.

Kud-ei was true to her word and a short time later she had returned with two men in cloaks with the hoods pulled over their heads.

"Here, drink this," she said pulling a small vial from her pocket and uncorking it. "It will help with the pain; the real cure will come when you have completed your end of the bargain."

Liam obediently swallowed the liquid. A wave of warmth seemed to pass through his spine and limbs numbing the overwhelming ache that just moments before would have prevented him from moving any faster than a painful crawl.

"Take him," the mage commanded and the two men threw Liam's arms over their shoulders and dragged him to his feet. With haste he could never have managed on his own the trio hurried him through the dark, dank, dungeon corridors and out into the moonlit night. Unlike his very public arrest, his escort moved unseen through the shadows to one of the weather-beaten old houses a short distance from the Mage's Guild. The door creaked on rusty hinges as it swung shut behind them. Liam found himself being half dragged up a set of wooden steps and into a bed chamber where they lowered him roughly onto an empty bed. In the dim light of a candle he could see another man tossing and turning in his sleep and wondered that he hadn't woken when they entered. Kud-ei produced a small bag that jingled with the tell-tale sound of golden septims and passed it to one of the hooded men. Liam noticed the glitter of chain mail in the candle light as the man reached for the pouch. So, he thought, a little gold will get the attention of the guards in Bravil; that was information worth having.

"Go now," Kud-ei was saying, "and keep your mouths shut." This was something Liam thought she need not have added. If the count knew his guards could be bought so easily it would be likely that the dungeon would have a few more full time residents. Kud-ei followed them to the stairs and waited. Liam heard the faint click of the door latch then Kud-ei hurried back to him.

"Why all the secrecy?" he asked and the Argonian went into a long winded telling about her friend Henantier who would be kicked out of Mage's Guild if they found out that he had created an amulet that would take him into a dream world. There was something about him being stuck there for several days and something about him never waking but Liam found most of it all too boring and so waved her on to the important parts. Kud-ei was obviously frightened for Henantier and desperate that someone should go looking for him in this Dreamworld.

"So you took one look at me and said 'there's a guy who really needs help and I could probably use his sorry state to force him to take on this task that could very well get him killed but if he dies in his sleep no one will really care so it's no big deal'."

Kud-ei's face turned red and Liam could see that she hadn't liked his tone, but she didn't deny any of it. "What do I have to do?" he asked.

"Put on this amulet and go to sleep," she said. "Once you are in Dreamworld, find Henantier and bring him back. Don't worry, in your dream you will have all your strength and health back. You won't be affected by the helljoint at all."

"Not at all; you know this?"

"Well," she said with a little less confidence, "in theory anyway."

Liam imagined himself thrown into a nightmare full of who knows what all kind of hellish creatures only to discover he was able to do little more than shuffle about in agony. He took the amulet from her outstretched arm and reluctantly drew the chain over his head. A similar tingle to the one he had felt when Kud-ei had grasped his hands in the guild hall passed through his body and a sudden drowsiness overtook him. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes as a heavy darkness filled his mind and closed him off from reality.


	9. Chapter 9

Liam was standing in a dark room that seemed to be lit by some kind of eerie red light that emanated from the surroundings themselves rather than any one light source in particular. With a sudden shock, he discovered himself to be quite naked and at the same time heard tentative footsteps coming from a nearby hallway. Glancing around frantically he spied a dresser and dove for it. He jerked it open with such ferocity the drawer and all its contents spilled out onto the floor. Liam grabbed up the biggest looking outfit and shook it to unfold it. To his dismay it was finely woven silk gown.

"Who are you?" said a man's voice. Liam dropped the gown and tried to look casual and unconcerned that he had nothing on. This is a dream, it's only a dream, he kept repeating in his head, but even still he could tell his face was flushing.

"Are you Henantier?" Liam asked and the high elf nodded. "Well, then, I'm here to rescue you." How absurd this must look, he thought and tried desperately to wish himself some clothes or heroic looking armour.

"I don't know what's wrong," said Henantier in a frightened voice and apparently, to Liam's relief, unaware of his unclad state. "I don't know how I got here, and don't know how to get out."

"Don't worry," Liam reassured him, albeit at this point it was more for his own benefit than Henantier's, "this is only a dream." He went on to explain about Dreamworld and the amulet as best he could but the elf just stared at him with a blank uncomprehending expression.

"I've lost something, I know it, I just don't know what it is. I wish I could find it, I think it's important," and with that the elf's attention was broken and, hands fidgeting in front of his chin he began murmuring to himself about how frightened he was and how was he going to get out of this place.

Liam stared at the elf in amazement. There was only fear and nothing else; he was totally oblivious to everything except his own terror and that he had lost some important things. He didn't even realise that Liam was standing in front of him utterly naked. The bear of a Nord picked up a crystal ball that had been sitting on the dresser and dropped it but the elf never took any notice at all. Liam tossed a few things around the room only to have the elf continue to stand there muttering about his fear and lost items. Finally in a desperate attempt to get the elf's attention Liam threw his arms up in the air and danced in a circle around him; however the elf only stumbled past him as though looking for something.

"Huh?" Liam grunted in astonishment. "I guess the only way we're going to get back then is if I go find whatever it is that you lost."

Liam searched the immediate room but it gave up nothing. On his right he saw a door that was very similar to those found on the old Ayliad ruins that dotted Cyrodiil's landscape. It opened at his touch and he stepped through into darkness. The faintest glow of light began to brighten until Liam saw he was standing on a narrow walkway lit with floating red crystals. A small Ayliad treasure pot stood on a stone table to his left and he opened it. A flaming torch rose from the pot and hovered in front of him as though beckoning him to take it and when he did it the flame burned even brighter, lighting a stone path in front of him. A shiver of fear went through him. It was clear he was to follow the path, however, it hovered over endless nothingness with nothing to support it and he was momentarily afraid to step out onto the first of the wide stepping stones. He peered across the expansive area and then he saw it; a round red orb glowing as it floated above a round stone basin at the other end of the pathway. That was, he was sure, one of the items the elf was searching for and one of the items he must surely retrieve before they would be able to rejoin the real world.

Liam closed his eyes and stepped out onto the white stone block in front of him, it was as solid as if it had the support of the whole earth beneath it. This would be easy the big man thought and with a grin began to jog along the path. To his sudden horror, he pulled up short, his foot narrowly missing a flat metal pressure plate. Once again he looked about him only to discover the entire walk way was littered with traps. Instantly he slowed his pace and with the utmost care found himself having to dodge suspended swinging blades that threatened to slice him in half like a carcass at a butcher shop, pressure plates that released poisonous gasses, massive metal knives that would cleave him in two if they fell on him. He finally leapt over one after another of stone pressure pads arriving, thankfully, at the glowing red orb. Liam stared at it for a moment. He was sure it wasn't another trap but the words of Kud-ei had been ringing in his ears "if you die in Dreamworld, you die in the real world." He reached out his hand then hesitated, rubbing his fingers together a moment before seizing it. With a burst of light, the empty space around him whirled into a blur. For a moment all the traps suddenly became known more clearly than ever, both the ones he had seen and avoided and some he had missed by sheer chance, and then he found himself standing in the first room again with the fretting elf pacing to and fro in an anxious dither.

"All right," he said out loud, not that the elf was listening, "now I know what I'm looking for." With the picking up of the orb he had entered for a moment into the elf's conciousness; the mage had hidden this part of his perceptive ability at the end of the maze of traps. Now Liam knew what he was looking for and it was no wonder the elf was stuck in this place; the idiot had quite literally lost his mind.

With this new information, Liam strode confidently to a second door in the same room. It was made of wood and looked just like so many he had seen used in mines. It too swung open at his touch and he entered what appeared to be a flooded cave. An old Ayliad pot stood on a raised hump of dirt and Liam slid the lid aside. Inside was a small bottle containing a clear liquid; he uncorked it and drank. It was like drinking slimy lake water and Liam might have vomited it back up had he not suddenly found himself unable to breath. Grabbing at his face and throat in terror he began thrashing about until he stumbled, falling into the waist deep water. Liam gasped and found the oxygen he needed, but not from above, but below the water. He inhaled deeply and looked around. The cave that had appeared to have no other exit than the door he had come through was in reality an underwater tunnel. Not knowing how long the potion would last, Liam swam as fast as he could deeper and deeper into the flooded cave. The tunnel had been created for a much smaller person and he found some of the turns difficult to make as he dragged his bare skin across rough rock. At one place several jagged spikes of rock jutted out and Liam sucked the water in sharply as they cut into his skin. He saw small curls of blood cloud the water and his mind turned to slaughterfish. Surely there would be no slaughterfish in this hellish place, was it not terrifying enough to be breathing water not knowing when he would suddenly find himself in need of actual air again. As if his thoughts had somehow ended the potion's lifespan, he began to find it harder to draw water. Frantically he pulled himself lower and deeper hardly daring to hope that he would find the end of it before drowning in another man's subconciousness. Then, just as he was sure he would die, a second Ayliad pot appeared in the murky water and inside another bottle of potion. He pulled the cork and pressed the bottle to his lips. Once again the slimy water like liquid filled his mouth and with sweet relief he found his breathing ease up. Only a few more turns and he saw a second wooden door which opened onto an underground beach. There was another glowing orb and upon seizing it he felt a swell of courage followed by the whirling sensation that left him standing once again in the first room with the tittering elf.

Liam noticed that the first orb was circling slowly about the elf's head and presently the second pulled from his hand and joined it. There must be another, he thought and finding no more doors in the room they were occupying made his way into the hall where he found a tiny door fit only for the smallest of wood elves. He stooped low and pressed his way through to find the Ayliad pot he had expected would be waiting for him. Inside was a small scroll and as he unrolled it, discovered it to be written with ancient runes. At first it made no sense to him as he made his way along a narrow walkway, but soon he found himself confronted with several rows of press blocks. He touched his foot down between them but it was too narrow and with a soft hiss and a scream of pain found a dart stuck firmly in his calf. Immediately a small swelling rose and the area around it turned bright red.

"So this is what it's about is it," he grumbled. I make one wrong move and I'm to be shot to death with poisoned darts." He opened the scroll again and studied the first set of markings. With great relief he suddenly saw that it was a map for three different sets of press blocks. He decided that this was to be the easiest challenge yet; what he hadn't expected was that the blocks, while easy to set off, took a long time to settle and with each step he had to wait for each block to settle before moving on. Having never been a patient man, he found the waiting to be a kind of torture in and of itself. On top of that the pain in his calf was increasing as the swelling spread and it was making walking more uncomfortable with each step to a new block. As he neared the end of the third set of blocks; however, and could see the glowing orb he sought was close, a thought came upon him. Why make the dreary last few steps to the end when he could easily jump from where he was over the final row of blocks to solid ground. With more than enough effort to make the distance, Liam leapt from his block, but the magik of the place was such it seemed to anticipate his move and as his weight left the press block a sudden shower of darts flew in his direction and he felt a piercing in his naked left buttock as though he had sat on a nest of angry bees. Immediately his flesh began to swell and his leg began to numb as he hurried painfully toward the floating orb. He cursed under his breath as he clasped it between his fingers, realizing instantly what his impatience had cost him and was whirled into the high elf's presence.

The third orb pulled free of his fingers and joined the others in their dance above Henantier's unknowing head. Liam groaned in the knowledge that his task had not yet been completed and pulled two darts from his buttock which had begun to throb slightly. Only two, he thought, checking the swelling in his calf, it could have been a lot worse.

Guessing that dare not waste any time. He hurried down a set of stairs and turned into a room that, had he not been on many hunts and in more than a few battles, would have sent him scurrying back up the stairs in horror. Blood smeared the walls and door and various bones and body parts lay about the awful room that stank with decay. He held his forearm to his nose and closed his mind to what was around him. It was only meant to scare him, he was sure. The high elf had had three tests that were for the mind, this would surely be no more dangerous than they were, although they were certainly dangerous enough had he thought about it; however, he was only thinking now that he must hurry onward before the poison pervaded the whole of his leg and it be rendered useless.

The door opened as his hand touched it and the pot stood waiting just inside a long tunnel with a gate at the top. He had seen a gate similar to this somewhere but couldn't think of where at the moment. Inside the pot was a set of miniature armour and various weapons. He pulled them out and, as he did so, they miraculously enlarged to fit him. He pulled on the armour and strapped on a sword before considering that he was in a magical world and as such it would perhaps be more likely to respond to magical weaponry, so he picked up the mage's staff also. Liam was busily trying to understand how the staff worked and waved it about to no effect as he walked up the long stone ramp, however, before he had even begun to understand its workings, the gates suddenly opened and he remembered where he had seen gates like that. He was standing in an arena and bearing down on him were two of the biggest minotaurs he had ever seen in his life. Of its own accord, or so it seemed, the staff grew hot in Liam's hand and a blast of lightening shot from the end just missing the closest minotaur's leg. The enraged beast roared in anger and lifted an enormous war hammer as it ran toward the Nord who, for the first time in his adult life, felt very small. This time he pointed the staff at the monsters face and a rage of his own seemed to gather in his hand and shoot from the end of the staff; the huge beast fell dead. Now Liam ran. In the few moments it had taken to drop the first beast, the second had crossed the arena and Liam felt the wind of the attack as the creatures hammer flew past the man's head and collided with a pillar. The massive structure thundered and shook as showers of broken stone and dust rained down upon the two combatants. Liam dove and rolled sideways as the hammer came down again, just missing his shoulder as its head became buried in the dirt floor of the deadly battle grounds. Liam leapt to his feet, lifted the staff and felt what he understood now was his own concentrated magicka mixing with the magicks of the staff as it became another bolt of lightning that struck the beast squarely in the face. The smell of burnt hair and flesh filled the air as the creature staggered and fell panting on the ground. The Nord pulled the razor sharp sword free from its sheath and with one swing severed the great head from its massive shoulders.

The pain in Liam's leg was spreading at an alarming rate. The forceful use of his muscles seemed to have caused it to progress faster than it had with just walking. On top of everything, the greaves he had put on were pressing with agonizing tightness into the swollen flesh and Liam fought to free himself from the ever increasing pressure. Throwing off the rest of the armour he clambered up a set of stone steps that had risen from the center of the arena and claimed his prize, a fourth glowing orb. With the whirling motion came the knowledge that his task was finished and as he found himself standing once again in front of the gibbering high elf, the four orbs spun together until, with a blinding flash of light they melded into one and settled onto the high elf's shoulder's where they appeared to reabsorb into the man's head. A look of enlightenment came over Henantier's face and he smiled briefly as the understanding of the situation came solidly upon him; then his expression became a disgusted grimace.

"Put something on man!" he said with utter disdain for the naked Nord standing in front of him and pulling open the drawer that had been beside the one Liam had tried, he drew from it a complete set of men's apparel.

Liam knew the moment he had left Dreamworld because the horrendous bee sting like pain in his backside had spread to every joint in his body. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying in a bed where even the tiniest movement was agony. As his mind cleared from the heavy cloud of the magically induced dream something didn't feel right and he lifted the blanket that was now covering him only to discover…

"Where are my clothes?" he asked no one in particular. He had lain down in sack cloth prison clothes, he hadn't even taken off his sandals.

"I took your clothes while you were asleep," said Kud-ei coming in with a bottle of something which she set on a short table that stood alongside the bed. He noticed a bowl of dirty water, a wash cloth and a small square of greyish white soap. "I burned them too after I washed the stink and fever off of you," she added flatly.

"I hope you know woman, those were the only clothes I had left in the world," he said laying his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes again, but not before he saw Kud-ei smile. Now that he thought about it he did notice the shivering had left him and he felt warm again.

"I found you some new clothes," she said in a more kindly tone. "I want to thank you for bringing Henantier back. He told me what a fool he had been and what you had to go through to save him." She pulled a small silver cup from the pocket of her robes and poured some liquid into it from the bottle she had brought with her. It smelled earthy but not so much so that Liam couldn't get it down. "This will set you to right," she said, "but it'll take more than a few doses and you'll be here a day or two until we know for sure the disease is fully cured."

"Minerva made it sound like the cure was a simple and fast thing," Liam muttered. "I got the impression I would drink a bit of mandrake soup and be good as new before night fall."

"And so it might have been had you been treated right away," Kud-ei said. "However, you have been running around the country side and hanging out in cold damp dungeons and I'm afraid you're in some pretty rough shape." She felt his forehead again. "But you have done a wonderful thing for Henantier and I and so I'm going to make it up to you that I blackmailed you into service. I'm going to help you learn to control and use your natural magicka in a way that an adventurous sort such as yourself might be able to use."

Not only was Kud-ei true to her word and cured the big bear of a man from the helljoint, she also taught him how to make a healing mandrake soup as well as create and throw a magical fireball to protect himself, or just light a warming fire when the need arose. She also taught him how to exercise his new skills so that his magick ability would increase.

"Someday," she said, "you may find you can throw a bolt of lightning without the need of a mage's staff."

"Ha," scoffed Henantier, who although grateful didn't think Nords capable of real magick. "In his dreams."


	10. Chapter 10

Liam left Bravil much healthier and a whole lot wiser thanks to Kud-ei's cure and good instruction. He also had little if any respect for the Bravil guard so when he stepped out of the town's heavy gate and found an Imperial guard's mount standing unattended he didn't think twice about swinging into the saddle and, with his pack tied in such a way as to cover the Emperor's insignia stamped into the saddle leather, he made for his little cabin on the Imperial City waterfront. He had to admit that travelling by horse was a whole lot nicer than hoofing it the whole long distance on his own two feet, especially when he still felt tired after having been so ill. Even still, Liam was relieved when the waterfront came into view. Riding up to the Wawnet Inn, he had a good look around for unwanted eyes before sliding from the saddle and abandoning the tall bay horse where someone would find it and take care of it. He trudged along the water's edge in order to avoid the busy docks and just as he was making his way between the last hovel on the beach and his own, he was stopped by a woman he had seen several times but had never spoken too; partly because her face seemed to have been permanently pinched into a sour, unwelcoming expression.

"Take this," she said mysteriously, "it's from a friend." Then she turned and hurried away without another word.

Liam was almost about to toss the letter, he couldn't imagine that old prune sharing any friends with him, but at that moment an Imperial soldier came bustling from the dock into the waterfront area looking like he had a purpose.

"No, they couldn't have," whispered Liam to himself, instantly wondering if someone had seen that he had ridden up on an Imperial horse. He took the last few steps to his door, slid the key into the latch and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. Silently he stood, waiting for the knock he hoped would not come and without thinking opened the note in his hands. What was this? Something about meeting in the garden of Dereloth at midnight; intriguing to be sure, but since he expected to be asleep at midnight, whoever this "friend" was, was going to have a long wait.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside. Liam tossed the note absentmindedly onto the old wooden table along with his small money pouch and cracked the door. Several more guards had arrived and they were going door to door. There was also a man with a leather money bag and a ledger. One woman burst into tears.

"What am I supposed to feed my family with?" she wailed. "Please, please, what good will those few coins do the Imperial Palace?" she cried and grabbed hold of the tax man's arm. The heavy hand of a soldier collided with the woman's cheek, knocking her to the ground. The crowd began to press in but before things could get out of hand, the soldier drew his sword and while he let the woman's husband approach to help her away he stood threatening everyone else. Liam closed the door silently and locked it. No one on the waterfront had ever been taxed before. It was his understanding that there had been an agreement before the Emperor's death that the waterfront would never be taxed because the only people who lived in the hovels down there were those who had no money to go anywhere else. By whose orders, he wondered, were they suddenly taking what little these people had and leaving them with nothing to buy bread?

He was tired; tired and angry but more so tired. Pulling off the clothes Kud-ei had found for him he crawled into bed. Even with the sound of the guards and the grumbling outside he found it easy to sleep. Then came the knocking; jerked awake he lay silently waiting for them to leave. Other than a very few people and that pinched faced woman who seemed to have been waiting for him, no one knew he was home and since he had been gone for days… With a crash the door burst open and two armed soldiers followed by the tax collector came storming in.

"You owe taxes!" said the short balding Imperial in a high pitched voice. Liam couldn't help but think how the man, from his bald head and up turned nose to his squealing voice, reminded him of a young hog. Liam started to get up but the pig man had found his money pouch on the table and motioned to the guards who held swords outstretched toward the Nord. "Don't bother yourself," the human swine said greedily, "I'll just count it out for you."

"So when did the Imperial Palace sanction taxing the waterfront," growled Liam.

"That's not your concern," the pig man squeaked.

"If I'm being forced to pay taxes, it is my concern," Liam snarled. One of the guards eyed him threateningly. Liam glared back defiantly, he would hold his place but not his tongue.

"The uneducated filth living in this dung heap could never begin to understand the workings of Cyrodiil," the pig said, "and if you continue to harass me with questions I'll tax you for them too; with that he pulled another coin from the bag before throwing it back on the table without drawing the cord so that coins spilled out all over and were sent rolling onto the floor.

Liam lurched forward but the tip of a sword pressing into his neck halted his progress. The swine smiled as he left, followed by his Imperial watch dogs. Liam got up to count what was left of his coins and inspect the damage they had done to his door.

Now Liam was angry and it took a lot to make the big Nord angry. The door frame had been made from heavy timbers that had withstood the blow that broke the door itself which would now need replacing if it was to do any good. As tired as he was, there was no way he was going to go to sleep in the waterfront without a door that bolted; it was a well-known fact there were thieves about.

Pulling his pants and sandals back on, Liam made his way over to the docks where dozens of old shipping crates stood waiting to be reloaded or burned depending on who they belonged to. Liam looked them over and found an extra-large crate made of very hard wood that would make a fine door, but it was still filled with vegetables and fruit.

"Who might I talk to about this shipping box?" he asked a deck hand as he walked by, but the man just shrugged so Liam asked someone else who also didn't know. For the third time he posed the question to a dock worker and finally he got an answer in the form of a gesture toward a nearby door. The sign swinging in the wind above it read "Imperial Trading Company" and Liam pushed the door open and entered.

"Who would I talk to about getting one of those crates out front?" he asked the Imperial behind the desk.

"That would be me," answered the man without looking up.

"What if the crate was still full of produce, how long would I have to wait for it to be emptied?"

The man sighed as though he couldn't be bothered with such questions and continued to scribble notations in his ledger as he said, "All the food will be hauled to the barracks this evening, then the crates will be hauled out onto the beach and burned."

"So if I moved the produce into another empty crate, could I have one of the larger ones?"

"No, you cannot have it!" snarled the Imperial as he slammed his quill down on the desk and turned to look at Liam for the first time. "If you want the crate it will cost you four golden septims."

"Four septims!" Liam said in disbelief, "But you said you were only going to burn them!"

"Those crates cost money," the man sneered. "If the Imperial Palace chooses to burn its money that's their decision; however, they certainly aren't going to give it away."

Liam shook his head at the idiocy of it all and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. So the Imperial Palace had money to burn and was still collecting taxes from those who couldn't afford it. He turned and stormed back down to the waterfront. "Perhaps we can make paying those taxes worthwhile," he grumbled.

Barely half an hour had passed after his conversation with the man in the Imperial Trading Company and Liam arrived back on the dock with three other men, one of which was the husband of the woman who had been struck in the face and all had the appearance of dock workers. It was getting near closing time and the docks were fairly empty as the men set to work. Liam carried a set of tongs, one end of which was fastened with a long thin rope. With a quick glance around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he shoved the tongs solidly through the door where it would brace on the frame making it impossible for anyone inside the building to get out. Two of the men began moving and stacking crates until the window of the trading company was fully covered without a hope of anyone being able to see out. The four men then picked up the long crate that Liam had inquired about and carried it, fruit, vegetables, and all, back toward the waterfront. All the while they carried the crate Liam let the rope attached to the tongs lead out until just when they were about to turn out of sight, he gave it a sharp jerk and the tongs pulled free without any more noise than might ordinarily be heard on the docks.

The four men hurried the crate into one of the hovels where they emptied it of food. The husband of the woman attacked by the guard pulled out a box of tools and he and Liam set to work building the new door while the other two began making deliveries of the fresh produce to all the families on the waterfront. Everyone ate very well that evening and the grateful woman, whose face was badly swollen and bruised, served Liam a very hearty helping. It was getting dark by the time the door was hung and close to midnight when Liam finally attached the lock and stepped into the cabin he called home. A chill was in the air and since there was leftover wood that needed to be disposed of, Liam threw several ends into the stone fireplace and tossed a fireball at it causing it to burst into flame. A scrap of parchment on the table caught his attention in the dancing light of the fire; he picked it up.

"Oh yes," he said out loud, "my 'friend' wanted a meeting. Well I guess I was wrong, I am still up at midnight." He looked the note over and considered it would be wisest to toss the parchment into the flames and forget about it. What kind of people meet at midnight in an abandoned garden anyway. Even still, curiosity was eating at him so, strapping on a dagger just in case things got ugly, the big man made his way back out into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

The night was clear and a soft breeze was blowing in off Lake Rumare when Liam stepped into the garden and the flickering light of a torch held by none other than his closest neighbour, Armand Christoph.

"So, are you the 'friend' who sent me this?" Liam asked, passing the note to Armand who took it with a curious expression.

"No," he said, with a wry smile as he read the note, "but I work for the one who did." He looked up, "I heard you did a little time in prison down in Bravil."

"It was a short stay and a misunderstanding," said Liam suspiciously, wondering where this was leading.

"Yah," said the Red Guard with a chuckle, "that's what they all say."

Liam immediately turned to leave; he hadn't wandered out into the night to be insulted by someone he barely knew.

"Wait!" Armand said, catching the big man's arm, "at least hear me out." Liam stopped and turned back but the stern look on his face said clearly that if Armand wanted him to listen he better make it quick. "The fact is," Armand went on, "you have gained the attention of someone who is very interested in having you join the guild."

"What guild?" Liam asked. He had never had the desire to join a guild or get a regular job anywhere for that matter. He lived off of what he could scavenge or find and that suited him very well. In fact, when he thought about it, he couldn't think of a single guild that he would feel skilled enough to join with the possible exception of the fighter's guild and, from what he had heard, that was a lot of work and not a lot of pay.

"The Thieves Guild," said Armand in a whisper while glancing about.

Liam was taken aback. "But I'm not a thief," he said more puzzled than insulted.

"That's not what I heard; nice door by the way."

Liam felt his face flush.

"I'm not the only member of the Thieves Guild on the waterfront." Armand smirked at him with the same kind of 'got you' smile as a parent would who had just caught a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I don't consider that stealing," said Liam, "I figure we all paid for that and then some this afternoon."

"How would you like to get your money's worth 'and then some'?" asked Armand.

Liam eyed the dark man and considered where all this could be taking him. He had no desire to spend another night in an Imperial prison and yet he would love to put that pig man in his place, not to mention the guard who thought it okay to hit defenceless women. "Tell me more," he said.

The Red Guard laughed. "I knew you'd come around. You have gained the attention of the Grey Fox himself, who has a special place in his heart for the people of the waterfront. He would be very pleased to have someone with similar interests working with us. Once you are a member of the Thieves Guild you will gain all the special privileges thereof including the ability to find buyers for otherwise difficult to sell items as well as make arrest warrants disappear."

Liam's thoughts immediately turned to the stolen items taken from the bandit on the road, the very ones that landed him in the Bravil prison; this might work out in his favour in the long run.

"However," Armand continued, "before you can join you have to pass a test. It's not hard but will prove your skills well enough one way or the other. If you pass, you can join, if you don't…we might be thieves but we do have standards."

"What kind of a test?" Liam asked, but before Armand could answer he heard the soft tread of footsteps in the grass. They were also coming to the garden.

A Bosmer and an Argonian entered the garden; Armand looked as though he had been expecting them.

"Now that everyone is here," he began, but Liam's mind was already wandering. He was surprised that this 'test' was going to be more of a contest. It seemed strange to him that one thief's skills had to be better than another thief's in order to get in. He just thought it would be smarter to test everyone individually. The little Bosmer interjected something about training her whole life for this moment. Wow, Liam thought, so this girl has dreamt of being a thief? Not what most girls dreamed of being when they grow up; but maybe Bosmers have different ideas of success. And she trained for it, he suddenly didn't feel like he had much of a chance, however, being competitive by nature he felt compelled to give it a try anyway.

"Any questions," Armand was asking.

Liam's mind raced back, he really should pay more attention when people were talking to him, he thought. He did recall a couple of things Armand had said, there was a name, Amantius Allectus, but what were they supposed to steal from him?

"I'll have that diary before sunrise," the Bosmer boasted, and Liam grinned.

One of the women in town had mentioned something about the beggars being the eyes and ears of the Grey Fox. If that were the case, they had to know a few other things as well. Liam hurried out of the garden and grabbed a hold of the old beggar who lived on a mat just outside its walls. He might as well try out his theory.

"I'll give you this gold coin if you can tell me where Amantius Allectus lives," he said holding his hand up with a septim pinned between two fingers.

"Oooh," said the beggar with greedy eyes, and grabbed for the coin which Liam held just out of the little man's reach. "He, he lives in the Temple District," the dirty little Imperial panted stretching for the shiny coin, but Liam wasn't done with him yet.

"What's the fastest way there?" he asked.

"Straight through the gates into the city, turn right and cut through the garden, it's the first door on your left after that."

"I'll give you an extra coin, if you have a lockpick on you," Liam said and with the grace of magician, produced a second coin from where he had hidden it in his very large palm.

The beggar stuffed his hand deep into his pocket and pulled out a lockpick. The two men traded items and Liam, tired though he was, broke into a run. He was surprised that the guards at the gate took hardly any notice of him as he dashed past them and turned right. He was beginning to wonder exactly what his tax money was paying for when he saw the slim outline of what he assumed was the Bosmer heading up the walkway and counting doors. Racing through the garden he slipped on some loose dirt and almost fell as he rounded the corner to his left. Panting slightly, Liam crouched down and stepped silently into the shadow of the doorway, slid the lockpick into the lock and listened as he moved it about. Click, click, click went the tumblers of the lock as the skills Liam had learned breaking into the storeroom of his uncle's inn in Skyrim came back to him. It was there that he and his cousin had learned all about the finer things in life like, fine mead, fine wine and fine ale. The door to the Allectus house creaked as it opened to him and he crept inside.

In the dim light of the room Liam found what he had been looking for, a writing desk and inside it was the very diary he needed. He could hardly believe this was a test. The door creaked again and the huge man froze. A small hand preceded a slim body through the opening and Liam breathed a sigh of relief. Grinning at the Bosmer, he waved the diary and sped out of the house into the night. If that's all it took to be in the Thieves Guild, he thought, then maybe he had enough skills to be in some of the other guilds as well, not that he had any desire to find out.

Armand was still in the stone walled garden when Liam returned, diary in hand. "What now?" he asked.

"Now," said Armand, taking the diary and clapping the big man on the back, "you go home and get some sleep. Meet me here tomorrow night and we'll talk about those taxes they collected from the waterfront. Well done by the way."

It was strange to hear the words 'well done' connected with the very thing that had once earned him a beating as a boy. He remembered the day he had stolen his sisters' diaries. They had ganged up on him and left him black and blue, but he smiled as he remembered the information he had gained had been well worth the bruises.

His key turned quietly in the lock and he stepped inside the warmth of his cabin. The embers of the fire he had lit before his excursion into the night were still glowing and he tossed another bit of wood on them before crawling into bed. It was funny, he thought, while he was still tired, it was now a normal kind of tired, not the kind that lingers after an illness. He sighed contentedly; tomorrow was going to be a good day, he was sure.


	12. Chapter 12

It was late in the morning when Liam arose. Had this been any other day he would have packed up his things and headed out to explore some other town and its taverns but today he would have to linger closer to the city. He recalled the old Ayliad ruin to the north and decided to wander back there and see if there was anything to scavenge. The white stone of the ruin seemed overly bright in the glaring light of the midday sun as Liam crouched down behind one of the larger pieces and peeked around to what must have been an inner courtyard or maybe a garden. This was the place where he had found the three thieves when he had first exited the Imperial prison and he felt sure that there must be more about from the way they had been talking. He was glad to find there was no sign of anyone, just the cold dead ashes of an old fire pit. Searching the area he could find nothing of value although he did notice that the huge stone door of the ruin could still be opened. He had never actually been inside one of these places even though they dotted the landscape all over Cyrodiil. Feeling somewhat adventurous he pushed on the door. There was a grinding noise but not of stone rubbing stone; it was more like stone rollers which Liam decided it must be as the door moved easily showing him a dark stairway carved out of the same magnificent white rock the outer walls had been made of. A prickle crawled up his spine and he readied his bow and tip-toed down the steps into the darkness of the ruin.

Liam had expected to come to a place where utter blackness would force him to stop his venture into the belly of the old underground Ayliad castle; instead he was surprised to see huge glowing crystals fixed here and there like eerie stone torches giving off a blue light that made his skin look sickly pale. At the bottom of the first set of stairs he could see a door and made his way toward it. Not far before the door he felt his foot come down on something that was solid but at the same time not solid, sudden fear took him and he and leapt aside as a huge cut of wood fitted with spikes swung down, narrowly missing his head. Liam's heart pounded in his throat as he examined the pressure plate. It looked exactly like the one he had seen in Henatier's dream.

"So the traps are real," he said out loud.

"What was that? Is someone there?" he heard a voice say in a whisper. There was shuffle of feet then silence and Liam understood that, that someone was listening. He leaned into the wall and held his breath, listening back. "Damn rats," came the voice and Liam relaxed a little and crept along the wall, watching for more traps and listening for any sound that might suggest he had been discovered. At the bottom of a long set of stairs a dark elf sat on a chair muttering to herself.

"I don't know why Orin has me on sentry duty again," she grumbled and pulled a carrot from a sack on a nearby table, biting into it angrily.

So, thought Liam, this is where the rest of that gang was hanging out. I wonder what they thought when they found their people outside dead that night. He set an arrow to the bow string and pulled it taught. The Dunmer reached for another carrot but her hand never made it there before Liam's arrow left her sprawled on the cold stone floor, dead. The huge Nord ran as quietly as he could down the long steps and searched the nearby pack; it contained nothing more than the Dunmer's lunch which he helped himself to before retrieving whatever he could sell from the dark elf's corpse and continuing on.

It was almost evening when he finally emerged from the great ancient walls. Orin was now down five more gang members and Liam was carrying off a haul of wealth he could not have imagined finding in such a place. With a great huge sack slung over his back loaded with the spoils of his excursion and a bottle of the finest Cyrodiilic Brandy uncorked and in hand, he was a very happy man.


	13. Chapter 13

The sun was dropping low over the mountains as Liam rounded the corner where the docks opened onto the waterfront's residential area. A huge orc hauling a dingy over his head swung it round as someone called his name. The boat nearly clipped Liam in the side of the head and, as he ducked, he slammed the sack slung over his back into the rock wall. He had picked up several bottles among other things and fearing the worst he set the pack on the ground, feeling around inside for anything damp. Sure enough one small bottle had cracked. Liam swallowed the last few swigs of brandy and quickly poured the contents of the damaged container into the now empty, but no less elaborate, brandy bottle. Picking up his newly acquired things he trudged on toward the small hovel he called home. The waterfront was strangely quiet, but he took no notice as he turned the key in the lock and went in. Lowering the sack to the floor, Liam began pulling out various items. Some were common things that he would be able to sell in the marketplace and others looked like they may be more difficult to find a buyer for and Liam was glad he was now a member of the thieves guild. Stealing from road bandits could prove to be a lucrative business indeed. He set the brandy bottle on the table and sorted through the rest of the items before grabbing a bite to eat and heading back out towards the stone garden.

"I'm glad to see you," said Armand. "The Grey Fox has asked that someone retrieve the tax money taken from the waterfront and you're the one we're asking to do it." The Red Guard went on in detail where the money was being kept. An Imperial Captain, Hieronymus Lex, had ordered the waterfront be taxed because he knew the people of the waterfront were under the protection of the Grey Fox. So, Liam thought, that must be the pig man. He heartily agreed to taking the job and set off through the city to the guard post where Hieronymus was known to be stationed. As it was midnight, the guards were preparing to change shifts. The sentries coming off would be going in and would likely be eating before they went to bed while the guards going out would be finishing eating and making their way around the Temple district where they would spend their nights ignoring large men running through the city.

Liam approached the door but just as he was about to test the latch it opened. A guard on his way out saw him and Liam prepared himself for questioning, but it never came. In stunned disbelief, Liam entered as the guard held the door for him. Several others were sitting at the table eating and drinking heartily. Without hesitation Liam walked across the floor as if he came and went all the time and climbed up the ladder into the first of three sleeping chambers. A guard who had already gone to bed stirred. Liam tiptoed to the next ladder and climbed it with the haste of a bad bear cub avoiding a swat from its mother. The second sleeping quarters was empty and Liam went on. The hatch on the third level opened with the smallest of creaks as the hinges were well oiled and Liam was instantly thankful. A man lay in the single cot in the room, presumably the pig man. Gleefully Liam crept softly across the room and gently took hold of the blankets. With one swift movement he through the covers back and brought his huge fist down hard on the startled face of the man in the bed. By the time Liam realized it was not the pig man it was too late and the Honorable Hieronymus Lex lay unconscious and likely to have a screaming headache in the morning.

"Whoops," said Liam with a slight cringe although to be honest he didn't feel too bad, after all this was the man who had ordered the collecting of the taxes even if it wasn't the man who had actually done it. With great haste, Liam picked the lock on the desk, retrieved the tax money as well as the tax ledger and made a quick retreat. The guards were still eating, oblivious to the fact he had just climbed down the ladder from the sleeping quarters. Liam noticed others were joining them.

"I hope you left enough for us," growled one of the new comers as he took off his helmet. Liam took a good look at him on his way out, for that was the voice of the guard who hit women.

As Liam entered the waterfront area he could see by the glow of a torch over the ivy covered stone wall that Armand was still in the garden of Dareloth, likely finishing up guild business. Liam rounded the corner in short order and tossed the bag of gold to the Red Guard who looked a little surprised to see him so soon. Liam held out the ledger.

"What did you do to your hand?" Armand asked, taking the book. Liam looked down and noticed the redness of his knuckles where they had collided with the side of Hieronymus Lex's head.

"Oh that," he said nonchalantly, "I bumped into something hard." Armand looked at him suspiciously.

"You do remember this is the Thieves Guild and not the Fighter's Guild right?"

"Do I look like I was in a brawl?" the bear of a man said holding his arms wide and flashing a big toothy grin sarcastically at the guild doyen.

Armand grunted and dropped the subject preferring to go through the tax ledger. He flipped several pages and, satisfied with what he had seen, tossed the money bag back to Liam.

"Keep it," he said. "You have done well and the Grey Fox has already compensated the others in our little community. The most important thing is that Lex got the message that he is to leave us alone in the future."

"I'm sure that message came across loud and clear," said Liam. He tucked the money pouch into his belt and turned to leave.

"Wait," said Armand, "there is one more thing. If you are to continue to work with the thieves' guild you should get a job."

This seemed a ridiculous statement to Liam. Wasn't the whole point of being a thief so that you didn't have to get a job? "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, that you should have some kind of cover to explain where your money is coming from. It would also be a good idea not to go flashing it around all over the place. The guards tend to hound people who seem to have more money than work."

Great, thought Liam as he marched out of the garden; so much for the life of a free Nord. Of course he could also put it around that he was an adventurer; he heard they could make a good deal of money crawling through the old ruins. Liam considered this as he unlocked his cabin door and stepped inside. The sack of loot he had claimed from the road bandits lay on the floor in front of him. Suddenly the door burst open and the guard Liam had recognised at the guard post stepped inside with one of his mates.

"Look at this," the Imperial said to his friend, "I was right, it is the scoundrel. I thought I recognised him. And look what we have here!" he continued kicking through Liam's loot and scattering it about with his feet. "I bet if we look into it, we'll find a good deal of this stuff was stolen."

Unwelcome visions of prison walls began to grow in Liam's mind as he readied himself for a fight, but then the sight of the brandy bottle on the table caught the eye of the Imperial and he picked it up.

"Oooeee," he said staring at the opulence of the container. "Now you don't see fine brandy like this everyday." He uncorked the bottle and began to raise it to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Liam said with a warning tone.

"Oh you wouldn't would you," snarled the guard and with a show of defiance chugged a gulp, shoving the bottle into the hands of his mate before he realised that what he had just swallowed wasn't brandy at all. He grabbed suddenly at his face unable to warn his friend who had also just swallowed some of the potion. Liam caught the bottle as it slipped from the second Imperial's hand as he too grasped for his face.

"Sorry," said the Nord, "I tried to tell you that was actually Potion of the Sea. If I were you, I'd get into the water before I died from a lack of oxygen."

The two men, fairly blue by this time, scrambled out the door and threw themselves into Lake Rumar with Liam running after them. He would, he thought, rather go to prison for theft than for murder, but as the two began to sink away from the bank a slaughterfish half the size of a small ship rose out of the depths of the water and swallowed them both leaving only an arm and an ever expanding wash of blood behind. Liam grimaced. So, the tales of a deadly lake monster are true, he thought and shuddered as he recalled all the times he had bathed in that lake.


	14. Chapter 14

Liam shifted in his bed. It wasn't the sight of those two Imperials becoming fish food that was keeping him awake; it was Armand telling him to get a job that he really found disturbing. Was adventuring a good enough 'occupation' to cover for any moneys he would gain from thieving, it certainly had the most appeal. Then there was the problem of skills. He was a good enough fighter to take on road bandits but he was sure to meet more than a few road bandits if he were to leave the main paths and venture out into the wilderness. What he needed was some serious training in fighting and he knew just where to find that.

"You joined the what?" said Armand in disbelief.

"The arena," said Liam.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"You said to get a job and that one suits me, besides how bad can it get?" answered Liam off-handily."

"You are insane," said the Red Guard staring at Liam as if seeing him for the very first time. "I said 'get a job' not get yourself killed! Those people aren't fooling around you know. That isn't grape jelly and sausage links they're spilling on the ground in there; that's real blood and intestines!"

"Don't worry so much, I just need some training in how to fight and that seemed like the best place," said the Nord with shrug as if he were discussing a good place to eat.

"You wanted to learn how to fight better and the Fighter's Guild didn't come to mind at all?"

"Well," said the big burly blonde bear man, "it did cross my mind but I've met a few of those guys and it sounds like all they do is run around doing errands for people who don't have time to do things for themselves. That and they don't get paid much after they do finish a job."

"You don't get paid anything at the arena if your guts are spread all over the stadium!"

Liam just shrugged. There was no way Armand was going to understand and Liam wasn't about to try to enlighten him any more than he had to. The fact of the matter was that there were so many things out in the wilderness that would do their best to finish him off and so it only stood to reason that training under life and death circumstances was the best way to go, in his mind anyway. Owyn, the arena blade master, seemed to understand Liam's reasoning though because he didn't suggest working on any techniques at all but was ready to let Liam fight with no more skill than it took to put on the arena garb.

"So do you have an appointment with death already or can I still talk you out of this lunacy?" Armand asked.

"I have a match this afternoon," said Liam. His eyebrows furrowed as he got lost in his thoughts.

"Look at you;" said Armand, "you're scared!"

"What?" said Liam, his mind suddenly popping back to the conversation. "No, I'm not scared, just, well, not sure about doing the actual killing. I mean, it's not like bandits on the road is it? These guys are just like you and me aren't they?"

"Maybe like you," said Armand, "but I've still got my sanity. How do you expect to win if you're afraid to kill your opponent? You do have to kill them you know, that's the rules of the arena."

Liam thought about this. It wasn't that he was afraid to kill them; it's just that they were probably just normal people trying to make a living; or at least that's what he thought until he arrived in the bloodworks that afternoon. He walked in half an hour before his match and put on the battle raiment that was supplied. Having grown up in Skyrim where clothes were often made of fur or wool, he found the open feel of the armour to be a bit breezy, but, he thought, at least it lets me move easily. There were weapons of various kinds standing in racks waiting for combatants to use them and as Liam reached out to take an iron claymore he noticed what looked like a child with big and very hairy feet sitting in a corner by herself sharpening a heavy axe. The expression on her face was of pure bloodlust and Liam suddenly realised that these were not just people like him, these guys were crazy! With a sense of purpose, Liam turned and headed back in to see the Blade Master.

"So," Liam said with a grin of expectation, "I'm ready for my match."

After three matches, Liam had advanced in rank from Pit Dog to Brawler which made him laugh. At home he had been accused of being a brawler long before he had reached adulthood and had been tossed out of his first tavern for fighting by the time he was eighteen. The fact that he hadn't started the fight was immaterial, he had finished it and that's what counted. While he did learn a move or two in the arena, he couldn't say that these first opponents were much of a challenge and he began to wonder if he wasn't wasting his time, although the money was good and he was gaining a bit of notoriety as he continued to advance. It wasn't, however, until he reached the rank of Warrior that things became challenging. Up until that point he would joke that it was rather like being at home and fighting with his sisters except they weren't allowed to draw blood, well not too much anyway. However now the combatants were getting good and for the first time Liam began to really feel the need to learn more. It was after one of these matches when he was lying on a cot being tended to by one of the Area's healers that he muttered something about needing to learn more. As the healer sewed shut a gash in his side where the end of a sword had caught him, he heard someone approach and stop nearby; presumably to watch the painful process as the heavy sinew threaded needle punctured and pulled at the separated flesh.

"I can teach you what you need to know," said the voice of the only blue orc Liam had ever seen in his life.

"Now why would the Gray Prince want to teach me anything?" Liam said caustically, then howled with sudden surprise and agony as the healer dumped some foul smelling liquid onto his wound. The pain that shot through his side was excruciating and Liam grasped the man's hand staring at him threateningly as he made to poor more potion onto the ugly gash.

"I need to keep training," said the orc, "but it looks like you will need some time to heal. If you do something for me, I'll teach you all I know."

Liam lay there for a few minutes thinking about the Gray Prince's offer as well as how much he would like to punch the sad excuse for a healer right in the face. He had heard about elves who had enough magicka to heal themselves just by concentrating on the spot and wondered if it was something he could learn. Perhaps while he was out on this errand for the Gray Prince he could look into that as well. It wouldn't hurt to try, at least not as much as it was hurting him not to. He had used his evenings to clean out a few of the Imperial Cities wealthiest homes – all connected to the Imperial government and guard of course, and had a nice purse of gold that would get him around to some areas of Cyrodiil he hadn't visited yet. This might be a profitable trip as far as his health was concerned and he would get something beneficial in the way of fighting out of it as well, which was after all why he had joined the Arena in the first place.

"Tell me more," he finally said.

The Gray Prince shared his story, quite a remarkable one, Liam had thought, and gave Liam a key to an old ruined fort. The secret of who the Gray Prince really was lay there he said and Liam decided this was a perfect opportunity to test his adventuring skills. The fort was out on the Gold Coast, north of Anvil, a place he had yet to visit. He would go slow and take a bit of time to heal from the wound in his side, but how hard could it be to break into an ancient old fort and dig through the rubble to find, or not find, proof that the Gray Prince really had noble blood in him. Liam pondered what kind of a man it would take to fall in love with an orc and seriously doubted that the guy could have been 'normal'; still, he supposed anything was possible. With effort, Liam packed up his gear and slung his pack over his shoulder. A sudden hot, wet flush told him the cut in his side had reopened and was bleeding again; but he knew from experience what to do now and pressed his hand hard against it in spite of the pain as he trudged up the stairs and out into the bright sunlight of late morning.


	15. Chapter 15

With more pain than he cared to think about, Liam crossed the docks and climbed over boulders to get to the main path that circled the Imperial Isle. He had returned to his cabin on the waterfront for supplies and to give his body a full day's rest before setting out to find the Gray Prince's proof of nobility. It was a beautiful morning for a walk and the big Nord's mind went back to the last time he had been in Skingrad as he headed across the bridge and turned south west. In truth there wasn't much to remember, not because not much happened but because so much of his life, at that time, happened under the influence of alcohol. He and his brother Eyvan had been in an inn belonging to a pair of orc sisters. He remembered drinking (there was always drinking when you were with Eyvan), there was a little weasely looking Bosmer, and there was… Liam had to think hard at this point; oh yes, he thought as it came back to him, the weasel kept hissing something in Eyvan's ear about meeting him somewhere. Eyvan had raised his mug to ask for more ale just as the little man stepped round him. The Nord's upward swinging hand had collided with the little man's face knocking him to the ground and producing a steady flow of blood from his oversized wood elf nose. A very large orc had accused Eyvan of striking the runty little elf on purpose and the next thing Liam knew a brawl had broken out right there in the common room. While he didn't remember much of the fight, he did remember that the town guard broke it up and Liam had found himself waking up in the back of a wagon on the docks of the Imperial City.

Liam ceased his musings when he saw the gleam of sunlight on something white ahead and noted the white marble of an Aylied ruin poking out from behind a stand of tall evergreens. It was truly beautiful, Liam thought, and he would have happily gone searching for a way in except for the pain in his side. The last thing he wanted was to meet some bandit or wild thing that had holed up in it, using the great ancient structure as its den. Liam watched for signs of life as he made his way cautiously, and quietly, up the road. It wasn't until he had reached the far side that he heaved a sigh and began to breathe easy. That however, was the precise moment a fireball flew past his head and he turned to find a stinking, filthy scamp bearing down on him. With the speed and agility he had learned in the arena, he threw down his pack and drew the great sword that hung across his back. Dancing back and forth to avoid fireballs he rushed on the vile creature and with one great swing severed its head from its body; alas the swing also tore at the stitches in his wound and he roared with the pain of it, nearly falling on top of the scamp's odiferous body as the weight of the sword pulled him off balance.

"Oh," he groaned as he slowly stood and made to wipe the blade of his sword. "How did I manage to finish off the Red Guard when this infernal wound was new?" Gathering up his things, he tossed the pack over his shoulder and headed out again. He could feel a hot wetness under his ribcage and truly wondered at the incompetence of the healer who had tended him.

The big man had only gone a short distance when he noticed something moving in the trees to his left and slowed his pace, fearing a battle he had no wish to fight. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just an Imperial forester. Then, with sudden terror, he heard the thunder of heavy feet to his right and before he could do anything to defend himself a troll bigger than a man tore through the bushes beside him. To his great and utter relief it passed seemingly unaware of his presence; its full destructive intent was instead on the forester standing in the trees on the far side of the road.

"I wish I had a horse, I wish I had a horse…" Liam kept repeating as he broke into a run, leaving the forester to his fate and ignoring the searing pain at his side.

The cries of the forester and the roaring of the troll must have been heard far up the cobblestone road for, round the corner, at a gallop, came an Imperial road patrol. The soldier leapt from his mount and raced toward the battle. Liam grinned, hardly believing his good fortune, then winced as he slid a foot into the stirrup, turned the horse toward Skingrad and sunk his heels hard into the big bay's side. Only a fool would walk to Skingrad, he thought, as the horse shot forward, and I shall have a horse of my own to return on to be sure.

The bay was sweating when Liam finally slowed him to a walk. He considered the forester and what may have become of him but concluded that he was an Imperial in the pay of the Imperial Palace and so Liam didn't feel too bad at the thought of him being pounded silly by a big, ugly, hairy troll. Besides, the road patrol had showed up in plenty of time to give him a hand. Liam stretched and turned in the saddle. While he was certainly making better time over the roads, he wasn't any more comfortable. In fact the rocking motion of the horse was probably making him hurt more, but, he decided, to hurt more for a shorter period of time and with less danger of being attacked was worth all the pain he would have to endure in the end.

The horse and man plodded on for an hour or so without so much as whisper of danger, but that was soon to end. With twitching ears the bay began to dance about and tug at the reins. Liam looked around but could see nothing. Shaking its head, the horse attempted to leap forward but Liam held him tight and wouldn't let the animal race off in a panic; then he heard it. It was the sound of breaking branches as something huge came crashing towards them through the underbrush. The horse reared and Liam was almost unseated as another troll broke through the bushes at the side of the road and kicked at the gelding with huge clawed feet. Liam leaned forward and gave the horse his head, holding to the reins only to keep the big animal on the road and prevent him from wiping Liam off under some low hanging branch in a crazed uncontrolled flight. It was as if the troll was on skooma! He chased the horse and it's rider until they were just in sight of the gates of Skingrad. The bay's sides foamed with sweat and the animal breathed so heavy Liam feared for its life. He pulled the horse in and dropped from the saddle. A stab of pain shot through him and he staggered. With a rush of adrenaline, the big man righted himself and, retrieving his sword from its sheathe, prepared to meet the insane beast that hounded their tracks; and none too soon. Before he had more than a moment to think it was upon them. Unable to run any further the horse reared and struck the horrid monster on the head with such force the beast faltered and missed as he swung a wild clawed hand at his prey. Dodging hooves and claws, Liam dove into the fray and finished the creature with two swift strokes. Adrenaline spent and shaking like a leaf in the wind, the big man's knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

Liam wasn't sure which was making him feel sicker; the pain that had seemed to take over his being or the stench wafting up from the dead troll. While it is true that troll is one of the most disgusting smelling creatures in all of Cyrodiil, troll stomach, which the Nord had successfully spilled out onto the rest of the beast as well as the ground, was even viler to the senses. Liam cleaned off his sword and turned to the horse that stood with its sides heaving as it panted for breath. The kicks from the troll had left gashes in its legs and flanks; there would be no more road patrols for this boy for a while. Liam led the injured animal toward the city gates and the stable that stood nearby. While out of sight of the guards he threw the reins over the horse's neck and gave him a pat on the rump. The bay caught sight of the other horses at the stable and limped toward them where he was taken hold of by a kindly looking man who had the look of one who works in such a place. Liam watched to make sure he was going care for the animal then, as if he had never seen the horse before, stepped out of the bushes and made his way into the city.


	16. Chapter 16

Skingrad proved to be a profitable stop for Liam. He made his way to the West Weald Inn which would cost him twice as much as anywhere else in town; but he didn't know if the orc sisters would remember him and he didn't care to find out.

"Would you be looking for a room?" asked the proprietor, an older Imperial woman who introduced herself as Erina Jeranus. She glanced quickly down at Liam's side then back up to his face as if she had seen something she shouldn't have.

Liam looked down and saw that the blood had stained right through his shirt as well as his leather outer garment. "Do you know where I can find a good healer?" he asked.

"Marie Palielle is a gifted healer. She's at the chapel. Most people go to her."

Behind her smile Liam could see the question she was trying so hard not to ask. "It's just a scratch," he said and lifted the side of his shirt exposing the eight inch, blood encrusted, slash with its crude stitches, inflamed tissue and what now looked to be puss oozing from the center. The woman's face went white. "Now," said the bear of a man, "which room am I in?"

"Upstairs, end of the hall, door on the right," Erina spluttered. "You need that looked at right away!" she added still staring at the stain on the shirt that now covered over the big man's wound.

"I'll be fine until morning," Liam said.

"No you will not!" Erina said. "You get yourself upstairs and I'll get a wash ready for you. And that's an order!" She reminded Liam somewhat of his mother; a kind woman for the most part but downright scary if you crossed her.

Obediently he made his way up the stairs. The room was spacious and the bed looked soft. Some fruit had been laid out on the table and Liam helped himself to a bunch of red grapes; they were the sweetest and juiciest he had had in a long time and could understand why Skingrad was known for their wonderful wines.

A few minutes later the door banged open and Erina bustled in carrying a basin of hot water in which she had placed several different kinds of herbs and leaves. "Now get out of those filthy clothes and lie down. I want to get you cleaned up a bit."

Liam was taken aback; he had thought she would leave the bowl for him to wash himself with. How was it that this little woman should command him around? Even still he said nothing but removed his shirt and leather over garment.

"Those too," she said pointing at his horsey smelling, dust laden, leather pants. "And get into bed." She crossed the room, threw back the covers and stood waiting for him to climb in as if he were a youngster being tucked in for the night, only instead of pulling the covers well up to his neck she only covered his lower half before retrieving the basin where the water had turned a soft yellowy green from the plants that had been soaking in it. It stung a little but not nearly so bad as the horrid concoction the arena healer had poured all over him. In fact before long it began to feel rather nice. Erina placed a wet cloth over the area and picked up some fat leaves which she crushed in her hands before placing them into the cloth. Then she added a second cloth over the leaves before covering the whole lot with a soft, dry towel.

"That should see you through till morning," she said, but her words went unheard, Liam had fallen into a sound sleep.

The new day dawned and with it came a downpour of rain that, had it been snow, would have threatened to bury the city. The steady drip, drip against the window frame pulled Liam from his sleep. The pain in his side had lessened a great deal since the day before. He pushed back the blankets to have a look at his wound. Most of the redness had gone out of it and the swelling was down. While it still oozed a little, it wasn't the thick gray-white puss that had been leaking from it the day before. A knock came on the heavy wooden door and Liam barely had time to pull the covers back over himself before it swung open and Erina came in with some food on a tray.

"I brought you something to eat," she said, "and I want to have a look at that wound." Setting the tray on the table, she hastened to Liam's side and, without even a "let's see" jerked back the covers. "Much better," she said inspecting the area. "There isn't much more I can do for you. I'm pretty good with herbs and things and have some nice ones that a young elf maiden sold me a little while back. Silly girl pulled the plants up roots and all, if you can believe it. I set her straight though. Now what you need is a good feeding and to get yourself over to the chapel. I've already sent word that you're coming so don't go making me look foolish and leave town now that you're not in such desperate need." She paused for a moment and looked at Liam whose mouth was hanging open as if he had had something to say but couldn't remember what it was. "Well don't just sit there staring at me like some kind of a mindless zombie! Get some clothes on; Marie isn't going to wait all day for you." She shook her head and muttered something about "the young ones these days" as she took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

Liam felt like he had just been caught in some kind of parental wind storm. Looking about for his clothes he was dismayed to see that they were missing. Not one to carry a lot of extra things with him he was wondering what he was going to put on when suddenly the older woman returned.

"Oh my goodness, what was I thinking!" she exclaimed. "No wonder you weren't dressed you poor dear, your clothes were still hanging by the fire downstairs. Now here they are all clean and warm for you." That's when she noticed he hadn't eaten yet. "Goodness, boy, get some food into you, hurry now." She stepped out and pulled the door shut again leaving Liam feeling much like a schoolboy late for his lessons.

Liam was thankful for the clean clothes as well as the hearty breakfast and made his way down to the common room where he thanked Erina kindly as she bustled him out the door, all the while giving directions to the chapel. He had considered moving on to Anvil that morning but what with the foul weather and the insistence of his hostess, there was no way he would be going out on the road today. Standing on the steps of the West Weald Inn, he looked about. Far down the street Liam saw the same crazy wood elf his brother Eyvan had accidentally punched in the face that night at the orc's place. Quickly Liam turned and walked the other direction; he might be wetter when he reached the chapel taking this route, but at least he wouldn't have to listen to the ravings of the insane little Bosmer.

Marie Palielle, was waiting for him when he finally entered the chapel, soaked through and dripping on the polished floor. Unlike the busy, motherly proprietor of the West Weald, she was a calm and peaceful lady.

"So, you are in need of a healer?" she asked.

"Yes," said Liam, "If you can do anything about this." Once again he pulled up his shirt and showed the woman the stitched slice in his side; still nasty looking in spite of the redness and swelling having mostly gone out of it.

"Oh, yes," she said with a kindly smile, "I can fix that right up."

The woman placed her hand over the wound and Liam felt that same kind of tingling he had felt when Kudei, the Argonian mage, had held his hands. His wound began to warm and as Liam watched in amazement it knitted itself together, tightly and cleanly leaving nothing but a thin red line.

"The scar will fade in time," she said. "There needn't have been one at all if I could have seen you right away."

"Please teach me how to do that," Liam said, awed by what he had just witnessed.

Liam spent the whole week studying under Marie's tutelage. He was a good student and although it meant he had to endure the constant mothering of Erina Jeranus, he was soon able to heal minor wounds without any scarring and possibly even some major ones if he concentrated hard enough and took his time.

"I'm amazed at how quickly you've picked it up," Marie had said, "Not many Nords have the natural magicka to do this."

"So I've heard," answered Liam. He carved a hole into his hand with the tip of his knife and watched it mend. This new skill made him almost want to go back to the arena… almost.


	17. Chapter 17

The walk to Anvil was uneventful unless you counted the Khajiit with a death wish and a road bandit from whom Liam took a well-made silver claymore. The blade was etched with fine detailing and felt perfectly balanced in Liam's strong hands. Liam felt it was his duty to take the blade away from the bandit who had proved he didn't know how to use a weapon of its calibre anyway. Tired and road weary by the time he reached the city on the sea, he had decided that he was going to spend some of his earnings on a horse before he returned to the Imperial City and Anvil was a good place to do that with its reputation for fine horses. Walking was okay if you had to, he thought, but the gold jingling in his purse kept whispering to him about the joys of owning his own mount; after all, there wasn't always going to be a road patrol leaving horses about for him to 'borrow'.

Liam arrived late in the evening and rented a room at the Counts Arms. It was a nice place but expensive and the proprietor was a distrustful sort, always following Liam about and watching him as if he were going to steal something; which he may have done he not been watched so closely. However, Liam couldn't complain; the bed was comfortable, the room quiet, and he slept well into mid-morning. After a filling breakfast, Liam made his way down to the docks; he had heard there was a merchant who would buy almost anything and decided to see if he could get him to buy all the odds and ends he had picked off the Khajiit and the road bandit. The exception of course was the silver claymore which he had taken a liking to from the moment he first picked it up. Norbert Lelles turned out to be the kind of store owner Liam would likely be spending a lot of time selling to; he bought everything. Probably because he can put any questionable items on a ship to somewhere else if he had to, Liam thought. As he left the "Quality Mercandise" he heard raised voices. Two men were arguing while a third stood holding a great grey stallion. The horse's foreleg was lifted slightly and blood trickled from a long cut.

"You fool!" the first man shouted, "Do you have any idea what this horse is – was – worth? Look at him, he's ruined! There is nothing left to do but put him down and feed him to the dogs. He's useless to me now."

"There was nothing we could do," the second man shouted back. "How could we have predicted the plank would break and he would fall through? Go to the mage's guild; see if one of them could fix him up for you."

"What, and have them put some strange enchantment on the beast? I would rather eat him myself than let one of those lunatics anywhere near him." The two men continued on in a similar fashion with the first saying he wasn't going to pay for a ruined horse, and the second insisting that the first owed him the money regardless.

"I'll take him," said Liam. He stepped forward and began to examine the injured leg. The stallion snorted, jerked his head up violently and tried to dance away from the hand that was feeling where the bone had cracked and the skin had torn. "How much do you want for him?"

"I paid 5,000 gold for him," said the first man, "and that was without the cost of having him shipped here."

"There's still 2,000 owed for that," said the second man.

"I'll pay the cost of the shipping," said Liam turning to the two men, "and I'll give you 1,000 for the horse itself," he said to the first man.

"1,000!" said the horse's owner in dumb astonishment at what he obviously deemed a ridiculously low offer, "but I paid five for him!"

"Yes," said Liam, "and all you are going to do is eat him. You can buy a lot of good meat for 1,000 gold."

"Fine," grumbled the man, "you can eat him then, he isn't good for anything else."

Liam smiled and turning to the other men that had gathered around them he said, "You all heard that, we have struck a bargain and this gentleman has agreed to 1,000 gold plus the cost of shipping." All of those who had gathered as well as the ship's captain and the man holding the stallion nodded and said that they did hear that a bargain had been struck. Immediately Liam noticed the owner began to waiver but there was no way he could go back on the deal now. Liam carefully measured out the gold and poured the coins into the owner and ship captain's purses. The stallion with the broken leg was now his for 3,000 gold.

"Hold him still," he said to the fellow who was holding the injured horse. Liam started at the stallion's shoulder and began to work his healing magic down the horse's leg. Inch by inch the tissue mended and moment by moment the great gray horse began to relax; his head dropping down until finally with a heavy sigh the magnificent animal set his foot back on the wooden boards of the dock and put his full weight on it without the least bit of pain. The owner stood with his mouth gaping at what he had just witnessed.

"But, but…" was all he could manage as he pointed at the closed wound. From the look on his face Liam could tell the man wished he had never made the deal, for truly the horse was superior to any he had seen in Cyrodiil.

"You don't really want him back," said Liam, giving the man a hard slap on the back as he led the perfectly healed stallion away. "After all, it's likely he's been enchanted."


End file.
